Almost Home
by anon004
Summary: House deals with Cuddy and Wilson's relationships by building one of his own. My first House/OC fic. Spoilers for season six, excluding Help Me.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fic featuring House and an OC. I would like to thank the two sources of my inspiration:

One, David Shore and Katie Jacobs, for so eviscerating the character of Cuddy and so poisoning the relationship between her and House that I believed I had no choice but to write something besides my favorite ship. Yes, I know they "kissed and made up" at the end of the season, but it was too contrived to be believable for me. Rant over.

(For those of my readers who like my Huddy stories, please don't worry that I won't be updating them. I've decided I can at least try to get my muse back by considering Cuddy as an OC and ignoring most of season six. Strange, but I hope it works.)

Two, on a much more positive note, I would like to acknowledge the inspiration provided by Glenlivet, LANIKI, and Diva in the House. (Not that I could even hope to come close to being as good as they are). Even if you're a Huddy shipper, you will enjoy their wonderful House/OC stories. Please check them out.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House sat in the PPTH cafeteria. His morning had sucked. He didn't have a case to engage him, and, as a result, he was stuck doing clinic duty. The cafeteria was mobbed. It was the beginning of the year for internships and residencies, and all the proto-doctors were wandering around like a bunch of lost puppies. And they all looked like they were twelve. Damn, when did interns get so young?

House was alone at his table. Even though it was crowded, his scowl was able to scare away the newbies, and the rest of the staff already knew enough to give him a wide berth. Sam and Wilson were at another table laughing and holding hands. House could have sat with them, but he had gotten to the point that he just couldn't stomach their PDAs, at least while he was eating. Hell, he hated it even when he wasn't trying to keep food down. He caught a glimpse of them across the room, staring into each others' eyes. He quickly turned away. God, examining pictures of the autopsies of people who died from flesh-eating tropical parasites was appetizing compared to looking at those two. He buried himself in his medical journal.

"Mind if I join you?"

House looked up and saw the largest, greenest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. For a moment, he was transported back to a trip to Turkey he had taken as a teenager, when he'd seen the huge emerald kept at the Topkapi Palace in Istanbul. He blinked and shook his head to clear it. He then noticed what else came along with the emerald eyes. A thirty-something woman, with auburn hair that fell in waves around her face and down to her shoulders. She was average height, with large breasts, wide hips for her size and an ample behind. Her waist was small, and her legs were in proportion to her height. Her face was heart shaped, with a square-ish chin and high cheekbones. Her nose was wide, and her lips were full and red. All in all, a very nice package indeed.

"Now that you've checked out the merchandize, can I sit?" she asked, indicating the empty chair across from House. "This tray is getting heavy."

"Sure," House agreed, looking down to avoid the embarrassment of being caught pathetically salivating. Over a stranger, no less. "Um, sorry about the, um . . . "

"Don't worry about it," she laughed. "When I was younger, a good-looking guy checking me out might have offended my feminist sensibilities, but, at my age, I'm just flattered."

House decided to ignore the compliment, since he didn't know this person well enough to decide if she had any reason to suck up, and since compliments just made him uncomfortable anyway. "What do you mean at your age? How _old_ are you? "

"Let's just say I'm middle-aged and leave it at that."

"Whatever," House replied.

"My name is Ann, by the way," she offered.

"I'm Greg," he responded. "I haven't seen you around the hospital before, and you don't look like one of the new interns or residents. What are you doing here?"

"I work for a company called Information Solutions," she answered. "We're doing an upgrade to the hospital servers and installing a new patient tracking software system."

Ann ate her lunch and House picked at the remains of his.

This software sounded like a major project. House wondered why, as a department head, he didn't know it was going on. Maybe if he ever bothered to go to a board meeting, he might have heard about it. He did remember Foreman saying something a week ago about House being a little too attached to those blue patient files, but he wasn't really listening beyond that.

The bad news was that he would soon be forced to drag around a laptop when treating patients, either with his team or in the clinic. That was going to be very inconvenient with his cane. The good news was that the more information was computerized, the easier it would be to gain access to it by hacking. He smiled as he imagined Cuddy thinking some new system would be able to foil his efforts. The smile faded when he realized she probably wasn't thinking of him at all when the hospital bought this system. Everyone, with pretty much the only exception being the few single practitioners remaining, was computerizing their patient file these days.

"Are you okay?" Ann asked. "You went away for a minute there. Apparently, something made you happy, then unhappy."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you were smiling," she observed, "And then you looked disappointed."

"Yeah, well, I was just thinking what a pain it's going to be to have to lug around a laptop with my cane," House grumbled, holding it up for Ann to see. (He definitely wasn't going to mention his thoughts about Cuddy and the fact that she no longer cared about him one way or the other.) "Cripples have a hard time carrying a lot of stuff around."

"How good is your vision?" Ann asked.

"Pretty good for an old guy, I guess."

"Well, this system also works with hand-held devices. The board decided not to buy a lot of them because they are quite a bit more expensive than the laptops, but I can recommend that you get one of them."

"My administrator probably won't go along with that," House conceded.

"Why not?" Ann questioned, looking puzzled. "Does she have something against handsome handicapped men? Is she a man-hating dyke or something?"

House smiled again, both because of the compliment and because of Ann's assumption about Cuddy. "No, she's straight. In fact, she has a much younger boyfriend."

"Uh, oh, cougar time," Ann stated. "I knew I got a bad vibe from her, I just didn't know why."

"She's okay," House argued half-heartedly, "For an administrator."

"Oh," Ann smiled. "If you dislike administrators that much, I can't imagine how much you hate IT people."

"Only the geeky ones," House admitted. "And you're no geek."

"Wow, I don't know how to handle all this effusive praise."

"Hey, I have to hold something back in case we run into each other again."

Ann looked at her watch. "I do have to get going."

"Are you here at the hospital every day?"

"At this point in the project, yes. After about three or four months, I should be able to work remotely."

"Will you go back home then?"

"I was living near our corporate headquarters, but I don't really have any ties to California, so I could just as easily stay here. Besides, we're preparing proposals to computerize the other hospitals in the area, and if we win those bids, I could be here in Princeton for a while."

"See you around."

"Same here."

House watched as she walked away. He used to tease Cuddy about her "rotundous" ass, but it was tiny in comparison to Ann's behind. _Must be all that time spent sitting in front of computers_ House guessed. He wasn't sure, but he thought she might have put a little extra sway in her hips as she walked away. Actually, he didn't mind the view. And she was certainly well-endowed otherwise, too. Fodder for his shower tomorrow morning, anyway . . .

House's pager went off. It was his team. Hopefully, it was a case so he could get out of clinic duty for the afternoon. He headed up to his office.

* * *

This was a short chapter. The next one will be longer and justify the M rating. In the meantime, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

A few hours later, House was in his office sitting in his eames chair using his playstation. He and the team had reviewed the file for the new case, gone through the patient's current symptoms, and he had sent them off to do tests.

He looked up as someone entered his office.

"_You're_ the infamous Doctor House?" Ann exclaimed in surprise as she looked from his name on the door to him and back again. "From what I'd heard, I would have expected to see glowing red eyes and fire coming out of your mouth. I certainly never expected to see someone I would be able to have a pleasant lunch with."

"You have strange idea of what 'pleasant' is," House practically growled.

"You mean because it was with you?" Ann questioned with a grin. "Let me guess, you would never belong to any club that would have you as a member."

"Something like that," House admitted.

"Just so you know," Ann stated as she sat down at House's desk and began working on his laptop, "I'm a huge Marx Brother's fan, Groucho in particular."

"Paramount or MGM?" House asked.

"I know all the purists would say Paramount," she replied, "And Duck Soup is a classic, no doubt, but I don't think you can easily dismiss the stuff they did for Irving Thalberg. There are some things in A Night at the Opera that have to be some of the funniest stuff ever committed to film. I mean, the Stateroom scene . . . "

"And two fried eggs . . . " House said, his mouth turning upward slightly. "I know I don't exactly have a great reputation with my fellow department heads, or the other doctors here, or the nurses, or the custodial staff, or the medical techs, or the lab, or security, but I didn't know I'd pissed off IT."

"Are you kidding? Your workstation is the biggest source of viruses, spyware, and worms in the entire hospital. How much porn do you actually download?"

"Just enough to keep me . . . interested," House wiggled his eyebrows, hoping his bravado would help cover his discomfort. Usually, he made no bones about his porn-viewing habits, but, for some reason, he felt uncomfortable discussing this with Ann. Maybe because there was no way to either exaggerate it or downplay it to someone who had the expertise to trace exactly where he'd been on the internet

"You know, there are some good sites that don't infect your computer. I could send you the links . . . "

"Really? How would a nice girl like you know about such things?"

"First of all, who said I was nice? Second, it's job related. Third, I'm in IT, so I understand something about human nature."

"It's just human nature? It's not some huge moral failing to like porn?"

"Not for those of us single people who have hit a dry spell."

"So, you've visited these sites yourself?"

"Again, I consider it part of my professional duty. That, plus a single girl's gotta do what a single girl's gotta do."

House couldn't help but smile. Here was a beautiful woman with a great rack unashamed to admit she needed a little something naughty to get her through the day. By this point, he was intrigued enough to want to know more about her, so he took a chance. For him, it was a big chance.

"Hey, I'm not exactly sure when I'll get out of here tonight, but if it's not too late, would you like to go somewhere for dinner?"

"I've been eating alone since I located here, so, yeah, it would be great to have some company for a change."

"Even with the infamous Doctor House?"

"I don't think I've ever gone out with anyone who is notorious. Sounds exciting."

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm not _that_ exciting. Here's my team, I'd better get to work."

"Me, too."

House stepped from his office into the conference room as his underlings entered through the other door and sat down at the table. Once they gave him test results, and they discussed symptoms for a bit, it became pretty clear that what they had thought might be a zebra turned out to be a horse. House was disappointed that the puzzle was solved so quickly, but it did free him up to go out in the evening. He sent the team along to start treatment.

"Looks like I'm available for dinner," House informed Ann as he returned to his office.

"Excellent!" Ann exclaimed. "Where are we going to go?"

Unfortunately, House hadn't really thought that far ahead. He hadn't taken anyone out to dinner since his awful date with Cameron five years ago, and he hadn't been out with anyone else since Stacy left five years before that.

"Um, what do you like to eat?" House asked, stalling for time.

"Look at me," Ann stated with a laugh. "Do I look like a picky eater to you? Anything is okay with me."

"Even a diner?" House asked tentatively. He was getting seriously concerned he was about to mess up the whole thing.

"As long as the food's good, that's fine," Ann said. "In fact, I'd rather not go to some fancy place where I'd have to get changed into anything more formal. One of the reasons I work in this field is you get to wear jeans and casual clothes. I just couldn't wear suits all day every day."

"I know what you mean."

They made arrangements for Ann to follow House in her car. They went to a diner in Trenton.

After they were seated in a booth, they made themselves comfortable and perused the menu.

"What's good here?" Ann asked, overwhelmed by the fifteen-page menu.

"Any breakfast food," House noted.

"Sometimes, I do like having breakfast stuff for dinner, but I have to be in the mood for it, and I'm not tonight," she noted. "Any other suggestions?"

"I'm not a huge fan of Greek food, but Wilson says the Greek food here is very good."

"Okay," she acknowledged as she examined the Greek menu items. "Who's Wilson?"

"A friend of mine . . . I guess."

"You guess? Either he's a friend or he isn't."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, we have a lot of history together."

"So, I have a lot of history with my friends, too. It's shared history that helps you bond."

"Not when some of that history isn't good."

"Especially when some of the history isn't good. It's getting through the tough times together that makes a friendship really worthwhile."

"Wow, you're wasting your time working on software. You should write greeting cards."

"I guess the way I put it does sound sappy, but you know what I mean. If you can hurt each other, come back and forgive each other, it makes the tie between you that much stronger."

"Yeah, well, that forgiving thing . . . "

"You mean you can't forgive him for something he did to you?"

"More like the other way around."

"He can't forgive you? Then screw him!"

"Well, it was a pretty big thing."

"Did you hurt him intentionally?"

"No . . . "

"And he still can't let it go? Like I just said, screw him!"

House was uncomfortable being disloyal to Wilson, even if Wilson hadn't exactly been loyal to him lately. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," Ann said. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Not much to tell."

"Really? I know that you're a world famous doctor and that you cure people no one else can. What do you do when you're not performing your God-like miracles?"

House snorted in derision. "You know you just said an avowed atheist performs divine acts?"

"So, you're an atheist? Me, too."

"Really, why?"

"Well, I suppose this is the part where I spill my guts and tell you I was molested by a priest as a child, or I tearfully asked God to save someone I loved and they died tragically anyway, or I had a shitty childhood and I asked God for help and God didn't help me," Ann explained. "But to be truthful, it's nothing that dramatic. I was never molested by as a child, I had a pretty normal childhood, and I never lost anyone under tragic circumstances."

"So, again, why?"

"I don't know if I can explain it properly. By definition, religious faith isn't something you can logically convince yourself of. I think most of humanity is religious because there is some gene that makes us need that. Apparently, I didn't get the gene. I mean, in a way, I almost envy people who are able to believe. I'm just not capable of it. Why are you an atheist?"

"Well, I was raised Protestant, so I didn't have an overly friendly parish priest diddle me. I never lost anyone in my immediate family until recently, so no begging God to spare a loved one. I did have a shitty childhood, but I don't remember spending a lot of time waiting for divine intervention. I'm a scientist. I tend not to trust in things unless I have some kind of proof, and, as you just pointed out, the definition of faith is the belief in something in the absence of evidence."

"Interesting," Ann commented. The waitress had brought their entrees at this point, and the conversation stopped while they ate their food.

"How's the pastitsio?" House inquired.

"Pretty good, actually. Want to try some?"

"Sure," House replied as he sunk his fork into the food on Ann's plate and put a big piece in his mouth.

"Um, I was going to cut some and put it on your plate, but this works, I guess."

"What, too unsanitary for you to share your food?" House inquired while chewing. "There's too damn much germaphobia these days. If your immune system is even marginally healthy, nothing will happen if you swap a few million microbes with someone else."

"Well, you're the doctor, so you should know. How is your burger?"

"Oh, just take some fries and quit fishing." House grumbled.

Ann smiled and snagged a few. The pause in their conversation was short-lived.

"Hey, didn't you just say you had a shitty childhood? In what way?"

House groaned. "Do you mind if we go on a second date before I disclose my most intimate secrets?"

"I wasn't even sure this was a first date," Ann noted. "Hey, if I get to go out with you again, I can certainly wait."

House was surprised. He hadn't really, consciously thought of this dinner as a date, and he hadn't expected to ask Ann out a second time. And he certainly hadn't expected her to want to go out with him again. Maybe something could work out here, at least for a while.

The waitress came by with the check. House grabbed it and headed for the register while Ann put her leftovers in the container the waitress brought her.

House assumed they would say goodbye in the parking lot, until he saw Ann looking confused. Then he remembered she was new to the area.

"Do you need some help getting back home?" House questioned.

"I have a GPS in my car," Ann informed him, "So I think I'll be okay."

"Oh," House responded.

Ann noticed a flash of disappointment cross House's face. "Although sometimes the thing is pretty temperamental. It doesn't always pick the 'best' route, either. When I came east, the stupid thing had me driving through inner-city Newark. I had the windows up and the doors locked. I haven't been that anxious in a long time."

"So, you don't want to tour the less desirable areas of Trenton?" House asked. "Why don't you tell me where you live and I'll see if I can get you there."

"Sounds excellent."

Ann gave him the address. After House asked for the nearest main road, he was able to figure out where he was going. They got in their cars and left.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I promised you some M-rated activities in this chapter and I didn't deliver. I guess I just got too caught up in House and Ann's dinner conversation. I hope you did, too. And there will be some adult stuff next chapter. Really.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House and Ann arrived at her home in about twenty minutes. They parked their cars in her driveway and Ann walked over to House's car. "Why don't you come in?"

"Okay," House agreed. He wondered if he actually had a chance to get laid tonight. He hadn't been with anyone since Lydia almost a year ago. He hoped he remembered what to do.

"Do you want coffee . . . or something?" Ann asked hesitantly. "I'm sorry, but it's been a while since I asked someone to come in after a date."

"How long?" House asked. He really wasn't that curious, he was just trying to disguise his own nervousness.

"I don't know . . . I haven't done much dating since my ex and I split up five years ago. So, two or three years, maybe?"

"Well, other than one conditional date, it's been over fifteen years for me."

"So, you win the contest. Lucky you. By the way, what the hell is a 'conditional' date?"

House smiled slightly. "I had an employee and she quit. I wanted her back and the only way she would return to work was if I went on a date with her. That was her condition."

"Oh. Since it was only one date, I take it things didn't go so well."

"I was never really interested in her that way; she was almost young enough to be my daughter. She thought she liked me, but it was more about her own screwed up psychology than anything to do with me."

"How screwed up was she? I mean, forcing you on a date. That's a little Glen Close, 'Fatal Attraction' . . . "

"It wasn't like that. She just had to get over her crush on me."

"A crush? What was she, one of those kids that gets through college and med school by the age of seventeen? Like a female version of Doogie Howser?"

"I think she was around twenty-seven at the time."

"A little old to be crushing, don't you think?"

"I guess. She came back to work and everything kind of worked out when she started sleeping with one of my other employees."

"That actually went well?"

"For a while. They wound up getting married."

"Somehow I'm thinking they didn't live happily ever after."

"They got divorced earlier this year."

"Why?"

"It's complicated. She said I was poison and I poisoned him."

"Since you're not dead and/or in prison, I'm assuming that's metaphorical. I guess it's always easier to blame someone else for your problems than to look in the mirror."

"I've been known to be a champion deflector myself. I'm in no position to judge anyone else."

"Aw, live it up. Go ahead and judge someone else. Besides, you don't strike me as very poisonous."

"Are you kidding? Most people think I'm toxic."

"I'm not seeing it or sensing it. Anyway, how many people who are toxic actually admit it?"

"That seems like a convenient excuse."

"As long as it's not inconvenient."

House found himself smiling inwardly at their conversation. This woman obviously was cynical and had no interest in pretending she was some Mary Sue, either for the sake of artificially bolstering her own self esteem or to impress other people.

House wondered if he should at least make the appropriate noises about leaving.

"Listen, we both have to get to work in the morning, so I should go."

"You don't strike me as a man who does what he _should_. It's not that late. Why don't I show you the place?"

"Okay. Can I ask you something? If you think you're going to be here for only a few months, why did you buy a house?"

"Actually, I'm renting right now. If I get the word that I'm staying longer, I can buy this place or something else."

"Why not just rent an apartment? It's less work."

"True, but I like having some space. That way, I can have guests when I want to, and I have a room for my music."

Ann showed House the two guest rooms that shared a bathroom.

"You have a lot of guests?" House asked. He didn't like the sound of that. Other people usually meant House was forced out. At least that was the way it worked with Cuddy and Wilson.

"Not yet, but I lived most of my life in upstate New York, and a lot of my friends are still there. Unlike when I lived in California, I'm close enough here for them to visit me."

"Oh."

"Hey, don't drown in your enthusiasm."

"Well, you barely know me, so I have no claim on your time."

"You know, relationships aren't zero-sum games. I can be with you and my friends at the same time."

"Are you sure you'd be willing to share them with me?"

"Share them? What is this, pre-school and they're building blocks? They are autonomous human beings and they can associate with whomever they want to, including you."

House felt a little better about things after that. He wasn't completely convinced that Ann entertaining friends wouldn't mean his ass getting kicked to the curb, but at least she was saying the right things. He decided he'd shown her enough of his insecurities. Time to change the subject.

"You mentioned a music room. Do you have some serious audio equipment?"

"Um, no. Actually I'm pretty low tech, see?"

She opened the door to reveal a room containing several musical instruments. House's eyes were drawn to the instrument in the middle of the room.

"You have a harpsichord? I assume you play."

"I'm a major Bach fan. I'm also partial to Telemann."

"Do you play these wind instruments, too?"

"Yes. As you can guess, it really helps with my breathing, not to mention my manual dexterity."

House couldn't help but smile. God, a woman who was good at the double entendre. It didn't get much better than this.

"Play something for me?"

Ann went to the harpsichord and sat down. She played a baroque piece. House didn't know which one, since he was more of a blues man, but, in some ways, this one seemed almost like jazz to him.

House observed her as she played. Her eyes were closed tightly in concentration. She used her whole body, and seemed to be transported away by the music. She certainly put all her emotions into what she was playing. All in all, it was very moving, not to mention sexy as hell.

Ann finished and opened her eyes. She walked over to where House was standing. She looked at him, not so much waiting for approval, he noticed, but merely wondering what he thought.

"That was really good," House stated. "What was it?

"A selection from Bach's 'A Musical Offering.' "

"It's kind of . . . jazz-like for baroque music."

"You know the history of its composition, right?"

"Not really . . . "

"Well, Bach was an old man and he went to visit his son, Carl Philip Emmanuel, who worked in the court of Frederick the Great of Prussia. Fredrick gave Bach _pere_ a not particularly melodic few-note phrase, and asked him to make a composition out of it. Bach created 'A Musical Offering,' which is in the baroque style, but, in some ways, is very modern in the way it sounds, at least to me.

"Interesting . . . "

"You know the best part? I think you'll especially like this."

"What?" House couldn't help but smile slightly at Ann's enthusiasm.

"When Bach sent the piece to Frederick, it was accompanied by the most sycophantic letter. Bach had followed his own path all of his life, and had certainly never sucked up to anyone. He was old at this point, and some scholars have speculated that his mental health was declining, hence the completely uncharacteristic groveling. There's another school that believes Bach was just laying it on thick because he was being totally caustic and sarcastic, knowing that with the ego monarchs have, Frederick would never get it."

"I take it you subscribe to the later theory."

"Yes. Bach is my musical idol, and I don't want to think of him going senile in his old age. Plus, the music itself was obviously written by a master at the full height of his powers, and well beyond the powers of all his contemporaries. Finally, I just love the idea of a self-aware genius cleverly tweaking an egotistical, empty authority figure without the authority figure even knowing it."

"Hmm," House replied. The story had been interesting enough, but Ann's take on genius and giving authority its comeuppance was even more interesting. House remembered that at dinner, she seemed to know something about him before he told her, especially his reputation as a doctor. Had their encounters at the hospital been more than just a coincidence? Had she sought him out because she wanted to meet him? This made House nervous that he wouldn't be able to fulfill whatever expectations she might have of him. And, if he was honest, it also gave his ego a little boost. Which was something that was not unwelcome given the current state of his existence.

Ann noticed House went away for a while. She thought she should bring him back "What kind of music do you like?"

"Rock, jazz, blues," House replied.

"Nothing written before 1900, I take it?"

"I've played Bach on the piano a few times," House admitted. "It's complex enough that it works well as a distraction."

"From what?"

"My leg pain, among other things . . . "

Ann guessed, based upon House's reluctance earlier in the evening to discuss his childhood that if she probed further to try to find out what "other things" he was referring to, he would just refuse to talk about it. Besides, it was starting to get late and she really wanted him to stay. She didn't want a negative conversation to make him feel he had to leave. So, she focused on something else he said.

"So, you play the piano in addition to the guitar?"

"How do you know I play guitar?"

"The calluses on your fingers. It's not classical guitar, either, right? The calluses are too hard to have resulted from nylon strings."

"You're very observant."

"Hey, you were checking me out earlier."

With that, Ann closed the gap between them and kissed House hard on the lips. House was so surprised he didn't return the kiss for the first couple of seconds. As soon as he realized what was happening, he opened his mouth. Their tongues did a mutually satisfying dance.

After about five minutes, they were forced to break for air. They rested foreheads together.

"I'm . . . a . . . cripple," House reminded her breathlessly. "Don't expect me to . . . slam you against . . . the wall and . . . ravage you."

"Wall sex is . . . way overrated," Ann joked as she caught her breath. "Let's go to my . . . bedroom."

Ann took House by the hand and slowly brought him to the other side of the house. She took him down a short corridor lined with bookshelves. She opened a door at the end of the hall to reveal a very large, well-appointed room. House really didn't notice the dressers, the chair grouping or even the large, wall-mounted flat-screen TV as Ann hurriedly pulled him toward the king-size bed.

They found each others' lips as they pulled each other down on the bed. They kissed ferociously for five minutes, took a few-second break to catch their breaths and kissed tenderly for another five.

When they broke again for air, Ann asked, "Do you have any condoms?"

"Yes," House replied. House's living arrangements had become so uncertain with Sam being at the condo that House was worried Wilson could throw him out at any time. Then, he would have to go to a hotel for the night. If and when that happened, he thought he'd be pretty upset and he would probably want some company to get him through it, so he had taken to keeping a couple of condoms with him, just in case. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two packets.

"I thought you said you hadn't been on a date in five years?" Ann asked, smiling. "How old are those things?"

"They're new," House assured her.

"Wow," Ann said. "Did you stop at the drugstore on the way over? Do I look that easy?"

"You followed me to the diner and you followed me here, what do you think?"

"I guess not. So why the preparation?"

"It's a long story. Can't we get back to what we were doing?"

"I hope I haven't killed the mood."

"We can get it back," House said, capturing her lips again. They kissed for a few more moments before the shedding of clothing began. Before long, Ann was down to her bra and panties and House was down to his boxers. They took a moment to really look at each other.

House had always thought he was attracted to thin women. It was what the culture around him considered desirable. He'd had sex with a few overweight girls in college, not necessarily because he was attracted to them, but because they were available and he was horny.

But as he looked at Ann's curves, he decided he needed to reconsider his position. She wasn't fat by any means; she had a small waist and a nearly flat abdomen. But her chest, hips and butt were large and curvy. House gasped as he removed her bra and saw what had to be enough to generously fill C cups lurking underneath. She also had the largest nipples he'd ever seen, other than in porn featuring women with obviously surgically enhanced equipment.

His hands slipped underneath her panties. He caressed and kneaded her ample ass. He wondered if she liked doggie style. Maybe next time, if there was a next time. He slowly pulled her pants down.

Ann had been checking House out as well. She didn't know exactly how old he was, but he was well into middle age, she thought, at least judging by his face. But his body was taut and toned. Hs arms in particular were beautifully muscled, and his stomach was flat. He had almost no weight on his torso, even around the back of his waist. His legs were long, lean and muscular. Ann reached for his boxers and House stopped her.

"I have a scar," he mumbled. House hadn't taken off his pants when he and Lydia had sex, and, other than that brief encounter with Stacy, who knew what the scar looked like, he hadn't been with anyone but a professional for a long time.

The great thing about professionals was that they wouldn't run screaming from the room upon seeing a really ugly scar. At least if they wanted their money, they wouldn't. And he had yet to encounter a hooker who didn't want her money.

"I've seen the bulge in your pants, and if you think that I'm going to be doing anything but staring at that huge dick of yours, you just don't know anything about straight women."

Ann pulled House's boxers down in one motion. She did see a large scar in her peripheral vision, but, as she had already told House, she was much more focused on his manhood.

"Oh, my," she said in a hushed voice, "Someone is about to make me a very happy woman."

She began stroking House with her hand, and her eyes widened as his cock got even bigger. In the meantime, House's hand had found her folds. She was soaking wet. He stroked her lips and entered her with one finger, and then a second. He figured that if she hadn't had sex for a while, it would be a good idea to prepare her for his cock. Her eyes fluttered when he began to stroke her clit with his thumb.

He kept gently probing until he found her g-spot. Her eyes opened wide again and she began to moan softly. House bent down to her nipple and took it into his mouth. He sucked gently as his hand brought her closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Greg, Oh, Greg, _Oh, Greg_," she cried. House could feel her walls contracting on his fingers as her orgasm overtook her. Her entire body convulsed with pleasure. House hadn't seen anything quite so hot in a long time.

As Ann's breathing began to even out, she resumed her stroking of House's cock, just to make sure it would be at full height. House handed her the condom and she rolled it on. He pushed her on her back and pressed his tip to her opening. Her legs spread wider, inviting him in. He pushed in slowly at first, still mindful of her not having been with anyone for a while. He felt a little resistance, but after a brief moment, she relaxed and he found he was able to push in up to hilt. Ann moaned.

House looked in her eyes. They were hooded and full of lust.

"Greg, please fuck me," she said in a sultry whisper.

House didn't need any more encouragement. He began to pump in and out of her. Ann's hands reached up to his face and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

"Oh! That's it! That's it," she moaned into House's mouth as his cock found her g-spot and he thrust against it again and again. She felt an incredible heat building. House could feel his balls tighten and he knew he was close. As soon as he felt her walls tighten around him, he could no longer wait and he released, continuing to pump into her as they rode out their orgasms together.

As their senses returned, House slipped out of her and removed the condom. He got up to throw it away and returned to the bedroom, either to retrieve his clothes and leave or get into bed with her and stay. He was anxious because he never knew what to do in these situations. The last time he'd been with a non-professional in bed was Stacy, and he knew he couldn't sleep with her afterward because she had to go back to her husband.

As he entered the bedroom, he saw Ann pull back the blankets. House climbed in and they put their arms around each other Ann rested her head on House's shoulder.

"Now you're going to tell me the cuddling after is as good as the sex," House stated in a sarcastic voice.

"Are you kidding me?" Ann questioned. "No fucking way!"

House pulled away slightly. "You don't want me to hold you?"

Ann pulled him back. "Of course I do. It's great. Just not as mind-blowing as those orgasms you gave me."

"I do have skills, don't I?"

"Gee, I hope these pillows are large enough to accommodate your head."

"Which one?"

"Just go to sleep, stud."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow! There was one angry review for the last chapter. I won't refute every point he/she made, but I will say the following:

Yes, I'll cop to bashing Cameron and Hameron a little. Regardless of her chronological age, Cameron always struck me as an immature character. Her moral rigidity was one thing. Then, her marrying a guy she knows is dying and then mooning over him for years and saving his sperm? Crushing on her boss? Making a condition of her returning to her job a date with said boss? Rather like a love stuck, a manipulative teenager, IMO.

As far as referring to Cameron as being young enough to be House's daughter, I never thought about that until Hugh Laurie said Jennifer Morrison was almost young enough to be his daughter in an interview he did on Inside the Actor's Studio. Assuming JM and Cameron are the same age, and knowing HL and House are the same age (according to his hospital ID bracelet in No Reason, House and HL have the same birthday, June 11, 1959), I just went with it. Far be it from me to argue with the lovely, luscious Hugh.

I don't remember in canon that Cameron is board certified in two areas. (I know that House is certified in Infectious Diseases and Nephrology, but I never heard that Cameron had two specialties.)

I was quite taken aback to be accused of showing my "true colors" as a Huddy shipper, as though I were somehow hiding it until the previous chapter, since I announced it in the notes at the beginning of the story. I also think I was clear in my displeasure regarding how Huddy was handled this season, hence my need to write a House/OC fic.

I'm fairly certain none of this will appease my angry reviewer, since he/she seemed to be coming from more of an emotional place than a reasoned one. (I'm sure he/she was even more upset about the events of season six than I was, seeing as how he/she seems to be a Hameron shipper and not only did TPTB choose Huddy – very badly executed, but, still the ship they chose – they also got rid of Cameron in a most bizarre and unsatisfying fashion.)

On a much, much more positive note: A HUGE thank to my three House/OC babe muses: Diva In The House, glenlivet19 and LANIKI. I am so grateful for their encouragement and wonderful reviews. I know I said this before, but I can't emphasize enough how much you will enjoy all their wonderful House/OC stories. Please check them out!

Now, on with the story . . .

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House woke up to the smell of brewing coffee. _Wilson must be making some for himself and Sam_, House thought, feeling a wave of loneliness come over him. As his brain worked out of its morning fog, he realized that he was naked, he'd had sex the previous night, and he wasn't in his bed or in the condo. He was still a little confused when Ann came in, and stopped at the foot of the bed.

"Good morning, handsome," she said with a seductive smile as she stood before him, naked. "Did you sleep well?"

House looked at her and remembered the amazing sex they'd had the night before.

"I take it that smile is a 'yes.' I'm getting in the shower. Help yourself to coffee and bagels in the kitchen." Ann walked into the bathroom and House heard the water start. For a brief moment he entertained the idea of joining her, but he hadn't been invited and he had no idea if she even liked shower sex.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know much about her at all, other than she installed software, she was an atheist, a good musician, and she had a great set of knockers and a fantastically large, firm ass. House felt himself becoming hard again at the thought. He willed himself to calm down, and got up slowly. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his boxers.

House got up off the bed carefully and limped slowly to the kitchen. He had taken his pain meds with his coffee and was spreading cream cheese on a toasted bagel when Ann entered the kitchen. House was surprised and pleased when she walked over to him and gave him a passionate kiss.

"Keep that up, and we'll never get to work."

"I just wanted to say 'thank you' for last night. It's been a while since anyone made me feel that sexy and desired."

"That's difficult to believe."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? With a rack like that?" House gestured to Ann's body, "I bet you could pick up pretty much any straight guy, and quite a few women, too."

"Well, yeah," Ann agreed, "If I wanted to go the 'skank' route, then, no problem."

"Listen, do you have a few minutes?" House asked, his voice getting serious.

Ann looked at the clock on the microwave. It was eight-fifteen. "I have a meeting with your boss at ten, so as long as I get on the road by nine-thirty, it should be all right."

"Okay," House looked down nervously. "I don't want to get ahead of anything here, ahead of where this," House gestured vaguely with his hand, moving it between them in an awkward fashion, "Whatever this, um, is, um, is going . . . What I'm trying to say is . . . "

House paused, attempting to regroup and collect his thoughts. Ann was smiling slightly at his obvious discomfort.

"I mean, I just want to clarify something. I know we may not go out again, but if we do, and if we decide to go on after that, I just want you to know that I'm not interested in being just Friends With Benefits. If I wanted a purely sexual relationship, I do it honestly by paying for it. What I'm trying to say is that if we decide to continue this, I'd be looking for a real relationship, like, like . . . "

"Boyfriend and girlfriend?" Ann suggested.

"If that didn't sound like the sixth grade, yeah," House agreed. "You know, hanging out together, watching TV, eating together, sleeping with each other the whole night . . . "

"Going out every once and a while for dinner or some event?" Ann interjected.

"Well, if we _have_ to," House conceded.

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to take me line dancing or anything," Ann smirked.

"Was that a cripple joke?" House asked in mock offense. "So, you're okay with thinking of this as a possible . . . relationship?"

"Yes," Ann responded softly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," House replied, relieved that he had not only gotten everything he wanted to say out there, but that Ann was considering continuing things.

"Not that I mind, but it's kind of early for this to come up, plus it's usually not the guy who asks about this stuff. So, why did you?"

"Well, I like to think I don't let myself fall pray to stereotypical behavior." Ann gave House an eye roll as he continued, "I'm not young any more, and it's taken me a long time to realize it, but I don't want to waste any more of my time on relationships that aren't going anywhere. I've had way too much experience with that. If there isn't a chance, I'd rather be by myself."

"A chance for what?"

"Something that . . . wouldn't hurt. That could last. That . . . "

"That could lead to love?"

"Now who's getting all girly?"

"Sorry."

Ann went over and put her arms around house's neck. She looked at his face. "I know you've probably been told this many times before, but you are a sexy, sweet, beautiful man."

"Actually, I've never been told that. Well, maybe the 'sexy' part."

Ann thought House was kidding until she really looked in his eyes. Yes, there was a bit of rakishness, but there was also hurt and sadness there, too. Had no one ever told this incredible man that he was beautiful?

Ann didn't know what to say. So, she simply caressed his face with her hands. She leaned in to kiss him. "What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty."

"When do you have to be at work?"

"As long as I roll in by ten-thirty, I probably won't get into trouble."

"Well, then, how about a quickie?"

House didn't need to be asked twice. They retreated to Ann's bedroom and enjoyed each other all-too-briefly. Ann got dressed and left for work. House headed back to the condo to shower and change.

Luckily, he missed both Wilson and Sam. He decided to grab some spare changes of clothes. He also replenished his condom supply. Not because he would necessarily see Ann again, he told himself, but because he still didn't know when Wilson would kick him out, and he wanted to be prepared for any lonely hotel stays. He'd have to make plans to move back into his old apartment soon. Ann had moved recently. Maybe she had some spare boxes.

House had a case when he got to work. This time, it turned out to be a zebra. He spent most the rest of the week at the hospital, sleeping in his office. At least he solved the case and brought the patient back from the brink of death once again.

As of noon on Friday, the patient was in treatment. House hadn't seen Ann because he'd been so busy. He entered the cafeteria alone. Immediately he saw Wilson and Sam at a booth near the cashier. Luckily, it wasn't as crowded as it had been earlier in the week, so he could find a table that didn't have a view of the two of them. Still, House wasn't looking forward to walking by the lovebirds.

As House made his way in line to pay for his food, he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, how are you?" Ann asked as she came up beside him. "You disappeared this week."

"Tough case," House stated as he handed his card to the cashier.

"Successful outcome, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Hey, care to join us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah, I have a friend visiting this weekend I'd like you to meet."

"Okay."

House wasn't super-enthused about this. He'd hoped for an opportunity to get some time with Ann this weekend. So much for that. Well, he could still ask her about the boxes. At least that would be productive.

They walked right by Wilson and Sam's booth and sat close by. Within earshot, at least.

"Greg, this is Bob," Ann introduced them.

"Hey," Bob said as he stood up to offer his hand, which House took. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here," House replied, not really sure how nice it was. Bob was a fairly nondescript guy. Tall, thin, with graying hair and regular features. Nothing remarkable, either good or bad.

"So," Bob said, "You're the sex god that nailed Ann on the first date, after she hadn't done it with anyone for, what, five years? I'm impressed."

Ann giggled and House couldn't help but smile. At least he wouldn't have to walk around on eggshells with this guy. "Yep, that would be me."

"Lucky bastard. Was he any good?" Bob turned to ask Ann.

"Fantastic," Ann replied. "Shall I go into detail?"

House couldn't believe it. He was in the middle of a conversation about his sex life, and _he_ was uncomfortable. "I prefer it if you didn't."

"Okay, Greg," Ann agreed with a wicked smile. "Bob, how is Deidre?"

"Okay," Bob said. "She needs to retire."

"She's not that old, is she?" Ann questioned.

"No, but the job has become really stressful."

"She's an elementary school teacher," Ann commented. "How bad can it be?"

"It wasn't," Bob agreed, "Until all the tests for No Child Left Behind."

"She's a good teacher," Ann observed, "Why is that a problem?"

"You know she teaches in an isolated, rural school up in the mountains, right?" Bob asked.

Ann nodded.

"Well, it's like 'Deliverance' up there. The little shits are all inbred," Bob informed her. "I don't care how good a teacher you are. You just can't overcome bad genetics. There's no way those idiots can pass those tests."

"Oh, okay," Ann acknowledged. "Then when can she retire?"

Ann and Bob continued to talk. House listened mostly and enjoyed the conversation immensely. This guy was dry, witty and totally politically incorrect.

Ann left to finish up her work for the weekend, and since House didn't have a case, he invited Bob up to his office for the afternoon.

"Well, that was interesting," Wilson stated.

"What?" Sam asked. She had noticed Wilson was distracted during lunch and seemed to be trying to listen to the conversation at House's table.

"Apparently, House has a new girlfriend," Wilson remarked.

"Well, that's great news," Sam said enthusiastically. "It'll keep him out of our hair and away from the condo."

"Yeah, excellent news," Wilson said half-heartedly.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House and Bob were in his office, talking about music. It turned out that Bob was a serious fan of rock and the blues. He also played bass and was in town not just to see Ann but to jam with some old buddies of his at a club on Saturday night.

The team was in the conference room, doing their best trying to listen in on the conversation in House's office and figure out who he was talking to and what they were talking about. For some reason, House took pity on them and brought Bob into the conference room. Of course, that didn't mean he was actually going to explain anything.

"Bob, this is my team: Chase, Foreman, Taub and Thirteen."

"Man, your parents really must have hated you to name you 'Thirteen,' " Bob remarked.

"That's a nickname I picked up here," Thirteen informed him. "My actual name is Remy."

"Well, I _guess_ that's better," Bob observed dryly.

That brought smiles from everyone except Thirteen, who looked slightly peeved.

At that moment, Cuddy leaned in the doorway of the conference room. "House, get down to the clinic and make up some of the hours you owe me."

House was about to argue, but he didn't want to lose and looked whipped in front of Bob.

"Kids, entertain our guest, would you? Dad has to go earn some money." House grabbed his cane and left the room, going down the hall to the elevator. Unfortunately, Cuddy accompanied him.

"Who was that in the conference room?"

"Cuddy, I think the stress of the job is affecting your memory. You mean you don't remember my employees? I hired Taub and Thirteen two years ago, and Chase came back last year, and you brought Foreman back to keep an eye on me during the hiring process of the new team."

"House," Cuddy exclaimed in exasperation. "The guy who isn't on your team. Who is he?"

"Just a friend," House stated. At this point, they had reached the first floor. "Clinic duty awaits."

House left Cuddy standing at the front desk as he snared a patient file and headed toward the exam room. Cuddy returned to her office, determined to figure out what was going on.

In House's conference room, the discussion between the team and Bob continued.

"So, how do you know House?" Taub asked.

"I don't really know him that well, I guess," Bob noted, "Since I just met him today. My friend Ann introduced us."

"Who's Ann?" Chase questioned.

"Ann Mueller. She's a computer consultant here at the hospital. She's working on the patient software you guys are installing," Bob explained.

"How does _she_ know House?" Thirteen asked.

"You don't know she's his squeeze?" Bob asked. "Or at least he banged her Tuesday night."

Bob was surprised by the astonished looks he received. "Boy, you have a shitty grapevine here. What employees don't know who their boss is screwing?"

"House is pretty secretive," Taub observed.

"That, and we just don't care," Foreman interjected. He yawned to emphasize his boredom.

No one had noticed that at some point during their discussion, Wilson had entered the room. "Where's House?"

"He's in the clinic," Thirteen replied.

When no one introduced him, Wilson decided he had to introduce himself. "I'm James Wilson."

"Bob Walters."

"What did I hear you say about how you know House?" Wilson asked.

"Just that my friend Ann introduced the two of us today at lunch," Bob informed him. "Ann is the computer consultant working on the patient software."

"She gave a presentation at the last board meeting, although I didn't get the chance to talk to her," Wilson stated.

"So, you're here in New Jersey to visit your friend?" Thirteen asked, ignoring what Wilson said, just because no one cared.

"Yes," Bob replied. "And I'm getting together to jam with some old bandmates of mine at a club in Trenton. House and Ann are coming. Ann is going to sing with us, and House said he may do some keyboards, too."

"Ann sings?" Taub asked. He honestly wasn't that interested, but he was hoping to find out more about her and House.

"Actually, she's a real musician," Bob stated. "She plays the harpsichord. Not that it would be a major draw in a bar, mind you. So, she'll come and sing with that amazing voice of hers. Hey, why don't you guys come and hear her?"

Everyone looked around the room at each other. They all nodded or spoke their assent. Not that any of them actually cared to hear this woman they hadn't met. It was the possibility of House playing music that intrigued them. Bob gave them the address of the club.

Wilson got a page. "I have to go, it's Cuddy," he explained as he quickly left. House's team and Bob continued talking.

Wilson arrived at Cuddy's office and took a seat in front of her desk. "What's up?'

"House is in the clinic and we need to plan to have something work-related to discuss in case he barges in here."

"Well, we are doctors, so there probably is some medical stuff we can chit-chat about, if necessary. Cuddy, what the hell are you talking about? Why did you page me?"

"I wanted to know what's going on with House. Did you see that guy in his conference room?"

"I met him."

"Who the hell is he? All House would tell me is that he is a friend of his."

"Not that close a friend. Apparently, they met at lunch today. They were introduced by Ann Mueller, the software consultant."

"How does she know House?"

"I don't know. All I know is that House is apparently sleeping with her."

"What? House told you that?"

"No, but I overheard Bob say it when I went into House's conference room."

"How do you know he's telling the truth?"

"I don't, other than Sam and I sat at a table near the three of them at lunch, and Bob said that House and Ann were doing it, and they both admitted it."

"Wow! Hey, you don't suppose House is sleeping with this woman to make me mad or jealous, do you?"

"You know, it's amazing you're able to tear yourself away from the mirror in the morning with all that narcissism flowing through your veins. I think House has been lonely since I started seeing Sam and he's seeking a little companionship to help him get through it."

"House is sleeping with someone to get through the pain of being separated from you? Now who's being the narcissist?"

Wilson decided to ignore Cuddy's comments. "Listen, I think I know a way we can find out what's going on. Bob and Ann are going to be performing music at a club tomorrow night in Trenton, and House is going with them. How about a double date with you and Lucas and Sam and me?"

"I thought you hated Lucas."

"I do. But I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, at least for one night, so we can figure out what's happening with House."

"Let's do it, then."

* * *

House and Ann both finished their respective work at five. They retrieved Bob from the conference room and headed over to Ann's place. Ann had made a casserole the night before. She put it in the oven when they got home and made some salad. Bob got his luggage settled in one of the guest rooms. Ann got House and Bob beers and they went to sit in the living room and talk.

"What, no beer for you?" House asked as he and Ann sat next to each other on the couch and Bob sat in an adjacent chair.

"Not a big fan of it," Ann responded. House noticed Ann and Bob exchange looks.

"Well there are other tasty adult beverages, you know," House remarked, "Wine, scotch, bourbon, vodka, tequila . . . "

"Listen," Ann said, "I don't know if this is too much information, but . . . " she looked at Bob who nodded his head in encouragement, "I'm an alcoholic. I've been in recovery for five years, but I can't drink for the rest of my life. Well, you're a doctor, you know the drill . . . "

"I'm an addict myself," House admitted. He wondered if this was something that was going to make Ann run from the room, screaming. "You know about my leg and that I have pain with it constantly. Well, I used to take Vicodin for it, which is opiate-based. I've had significant pain since leg surgery ten years ago, and, as the years passed, I used more and more of it. It got to the point where I was hallucinating and delusional. I went to Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital to detox last year. I haven't had any since."

"What do you do for pain now?" Ann asked.

House was amazed that Ann skipped right over the "psychiatric" part and went right into concern. It made him a little pleased, actually. "Ibuprofen, hot baths and messages."

"That hardly seems like it would work, after narcotics," Ann observed.

"It doesn't," House admitted. "At least not very well. But being in pain is better than being nuts."

There was a pause in the conversation as everything sank in.

"So, I'm the normal one in this room." Bob stated. "Man, that doesn't happen very often. I better gloat a little. Hey, losers, get me another beer!"

Ann got up and swatted Bob on the arm. "Do you need another one, Greg?" she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

"No, I'm good for now," House informed her.

They spent the rest of the time before dinner talking, mostly about music and about the people House was going to meet tomorrow night at the club.

They continued the conversation over dinner.

"It'll be great to have a keyboard man again," Bob stated.

"What happened to the one you had?" House asked. "Five to ten for statutory rape?"

"Nope," Bob answered with a smile. "Although he always did have an _appreciation_ for the younger females. He died last year. Stroke at sixty-one. The stupid bastard never took care of himself at all."

House pondered that for a moment. He knew that he had been on the path to an early death, with the pills, too much booze and his crappy diet. It was certainly sobering to think he would have had maybe ten years left, if he hadn't straightened himself out, at least a little.

The other interesting thing was that even up to a week ago, he really wouldn't have cared about his life being cut short. Cuddy was with Lucas and Wilson was with Sam, and House felt completely alone. Then he met Ann. She was beautiful, funny and non-judgmental. She didn't seem to see him as someone who was defective and needed to be fixed. And the cherry on top was that she had at least one interesting friend. House felt hopeful for the first time in, well, he couldn't even remember when.

After dinner was finished, Bob retreated to his bedroom, claiming fatigue from traveling and the need for a good night's sleep, since they would be up late the following evening. House and Ann went to her bedroom. She went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and emerged in a very short, lacy, dark green nightgown with spaghetti straps and matching tap pants.

House had retrieved his bag from the trunk of his car earlier. He changed into a t-shirt and sleep pants while Ann was in the bathroom.

"That looks good," House commented, checking her up and down. "Could use a little less coverage on the bottom, though . . . "

"If you're trying to tell me you'd prefer me in a thong, forget it," Ann informed him. "My ass is too big. Wearing one of those things just gives me a permanent wedgie. Besides, these pants have their advantages."

House was sitting in a chair across from where she was standing, somewhat above eye level with the bed. Ann lay down on the bed and moved her legs apart. Since the leg openings of the tap pants were fairly wide, he discovered could see up through them and get a good look at pretty much everything. Certainly as much as a thong would have revealed.

"Not bad," House remarked as he made his way over to her. He climbed on the bed and began kissing her, as his hand worked its way up the leg of the pants to her core.

"See, plenty of . . . room for . . . fun," Ann panted as House's fingers began exploring her wetness. He found that he had enough space to insert his fingers into her. Her breathing continued to speed up as he stroked the outside of her pussy lips with his thumb. House felt his fingers becoming very wet.

"You really like being touched here, don't you?" House asked.

"Especially . . . with those . . . exquisite fingers," Ann continued to gasp. Her eyes fluttered as the index finger on House's other hand began to rub her clit.

"Ummm," Ann moaned as House continued to work his hands. Once again, his digits found her g-spot and he continued to stimulate her. Before long, he felt her spasms on his hand as she cried out his name.

As Ann came down from her orgasm, House pulled her top over her head and her pants off her legs. She was laying on the bed before him, completely naked, with her legs spread and her wetness on display in front of him. His cock was completely hard by this time, but he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. He took off his shirt and pants, and then he bent his head down and began to taste her.

"Mrghm," Ann murmured, unable to form an actual word in English. House's tongue had licked around both her outer and inner lips and was now plunging into her and skillfully working its way around inside. She hadn't felt anything this good in a long time.

She experienced disappointment as his tongue slipped out, only to be thrilled a moment later as he began to lick her clit. It was already engorged from the previous orgasm and the stimulation he had just been giving her, so it was at full attention. He teased her by circling his tongue all around the sides and avoiding the hyper-sensitive tip.

He kept this up for what seemed like an eternity to her, but was actually only a few minutes. House flicked his tongue lightly across the tip and she came even harder than she had from his fingers, crying out his name again as her body shook uncontrollably.

Ann lay there, her breaths coming quickly, with her legs open even wider than before and her pussy dripping wet. House was rock hard and twitching. He grabbed a condom, opened the package, and rolled it on.

Ann was completely surprised when House flipped her over on her stomach and began kneading her buttocks. Doggie-style wasn't her favorite for a couple of reasons, one being it didn't make her come. But, House had already given her two toe-curling orgasms, and Ann thought it was only fair to let him have what he wanted at this point.

House continued to massage her backside vigorously. "You have the firmest, biggest, most gorgeous ass I've ever seen," House stated. Ann moved her legs apart as far as she could and pointed her butt up higher, thus completely exposing herself to him. House put his cock at her opening and began to ease himself in. He started to pump slowly, and gradually began picking up the pace of his thrusts. Ann's clit was hyper sensitive at this point, and, to her surprise and delight, House's scrotum slapping against it was actually stimulating her quite effectively. In her haze of desire, all she really knew was that she wanted that hairy ball sac to keep hitting her. It didn't hurt that House's cock was gliding across her g-spot with every thrust, either.

"Faster, Harder!" She cried out as House continued to move in and out of her. As House obliged her he felt his balls tighten and his own orgasm fast approaching. Just before it hit, he slid his hand under her. The mere touch of his finger on her clit was enough to send her crashing over the edge again as House ejaculated into her.

They collapsed on the bed, completely spent. At the first hint of House's erection going down, he grabbed the edges of the condom and quickly pulled out. He slipped it off and painfully got up and made his way to the bathroom. He tossed it in the trash and returned to bed.

Ann curled next to him as he crawled under the covers.

"I think we need to change something," Ann said softly.

House felt like a balloon that had had a large amount of helium let out of it. He'd given her three orgasms and she seemed to enjoy them when they were happening. What had made her change her mind?

"You didn't like the sex?" House asked, in an even softer voice than Ann had used.

"I adored it," Ann responded, looking directly into House's eyes, so he would know she meant it.

"Well, then, what do you want to change?" House asked.

Ann could hear both the bewilderment and hurt in his voice. "What happens after. I know you have to pull out quickly or the condom could slip off, but I hate that part. I want you inside me as long as possible. I think it's time we found another method of birth control."

House couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relieved. Not to mention turned on with the idea that she wanted him inside her longer.

"I lost my medical license when I went to Mayfield and I had to get tested to get it back. I haven't been with anyone since, so, I'm clean."

"You know it's been five years for me," Ann said, "And I was extensively tested before my bout of celibacy."

That was odd. Hadn't Ann been divorced five years ago? Most people got tested at the beginning of a relationship, not at the end. "Why were you tested then?" House asked. "Did your ex screw around on you and were you afraid he'd infected you?"

"Not exactly." Ann saw House's curiosity written all over his face. "Listen, it's a long story and it's late. We really should get some sleep."

"But . . . " House protested.

"I'll tell you another time," Ann countered. "When you tell me all about your shitty childhood."

That was certainly enough to shut House up for the night on that or pretty much any other subject. Ann was right. They should be enjoying the afterglow of a great fuck and getting some much needed sleep.

"I was on the pill when I was married and I didn't have any problems," Ann noted as she pulled herself tighter against House's chest. "We could try that."

"I do enjoy riding bareback," House admitted with a smirk.

As Ann drifted of to sleep, she became aware that she hadn't felt a pair of strong arms around her in a long time. And she really liked it.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House woke up to the smell of bacon frying. He got up carefully and went to the bathroom. He relieved himself and got a glass of water. He returned to the bedroom, sat down on the bed and took a couple of ibuprofen. He waited for a bit as the worst of the pain settled down.

He reached for his sleep pants and t-shirt and put them on carefully. He grabbed his cane and stood up, pausing for a moment to steady himself. He walked to the kitchen with as much dignity as he could muster.

Bob was up, showered and dressed. Ann was also ready. Since House didn't know Bob very well, he felt slightly embarrassed being the only one still in his sleepwear. Then again, if this was as awkward as things got, it would be a pretty good day.

House checked the clock. It was a little after eight.

"You're up early on a Saturday," House remarked to Bob by way of a greeting.

Ann had put the bacon, eggs, toasted bagels and fruit on the counter and handed Bob and House plates, while keeping one for herself. They all helped themselves to the food.

"To make it in on time to work with my commute, I have to be up by six," Bob replied. "Getting up early is a habit from too many years working as a useless cubicle jockey in a giant, soulless multinational corporation, as my wife would say."

"And you let her get away with that?" House couldn't resist busting on Bob a little bit.

"No," Bob responded with a small smile. "I just tell her a shiftless government drone living off the taxpayers is in no position to criticize anyone."

"I bet that goes over well," House remarked with a smirk.

"It's usually around that time in the argument that she tells me that only reason I have so much hair is because of a lack of testosterone," Bob added, a bigger smile on his face now.

"You guys must be a blast at Thanksgiving dinner," House guessed.

"As long as they keep the knives away from us," Bob responded. "Nothing like Thanksgiving with the family."

"My last Thanksgiving was pretty funny," House stated.

"What happened?" Bob asked.

"My boss invited me to her sister's house about three hours' drive from here," House told him. "When I got there, it turned out my boss, her family and boyfriend were all here in Princeton at her house. The house sitter told me she was instructed to offer me a turkey sandwich."

"You found that funny, huh?" Bob asked, looking perplexed. "Isn't Thanksgiving a little late in the year for an April Fool's joke?"

"I'll say," Ann chimed in. "I guess I'm not seeing the 'humor' here, either. Well, I suppose it just confirms my initial impression that your boss is a heartless bitch."

"She's not that bad," House defended Cuddy. He wasn't sure why.

"Didn't you say last night that your leg hurts you and that you really don't have effective pain meds any more?" Ann questioned House.

"Yeah," House agreed.

"And I bet sitting in a car for six hours probably isn't the most comfortable thing for you," Ann continued. "So, she knows you're in pain, and she has you drive six hours just to play a 'joke' on you? And during a holiday that's supposed to be about gathering with family and friends and showing how much we appreciate them. Sounds to me like if you looked up 'heartless bitch' in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of her."

There was a pause as House looked at Ann. She was right, of course. What Cuddy and Lucas had done to him was pretty shitty. It just didn't make him feel any better to acknowledge it.

"Hey, Annie, ease up, huh?" Bob's baritone quietly broke into the conversation. "I know it offends your sense of justice, but it's over."

Ann had seen the pain cross House's face. "I'm sorry. Sometimes my righteous indignation gets out of hand. I'll try to be less insufferable, okay?"

"You've barely scratched the surface of insufferable," House stated, thinking of Wilson. Well, there was another happy topic. He decided he needed a little space.

"Listen, I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"Sure," Ann said. "Do you want me to get you some towels?"

"They're in the linen closet in the hall, right?" House asked.

"Yes," Ann replied.

"Thanks," House said. He limped out of the kitchen and headed toward the hall to retrieve the towels.

Ann and Bob heard the bedroom and the bathroom doors shut, and the water go on.

"You're a guy," Ann turned to Bob as she started cleaning up breakfast. "Am I pushing too much? Am I getting too involved too fast?"

"That depends on the guy," Bob answered. "Some guys like their women to be involved and concerned and all that. Some don't."

"Really?" Ann asked. "There are actually people out there who believe that telling someone that you don't care about them is a sign of love?"

"Whoa," Bob exclaimed. "Did you really mean to use the word 'love' about this guy? Already?"

"Well, I may be getting ahead of things," Ann admitted. "It's just that he's _so_ amazing."

"Yeah," Bob smiled. "I heard how _amazing_ he was last night. Geez, I never knew you were so noisy when you're doing it."

Ann looked at him with a sly smile. "Well, it's been a while. Besides he does something to me, what can I say?"

"A lot of very loud, incoherent syllables, it seems," Bob joked.

"So, what should I do?" Ann questioned.

"Trust your instincts," Bob advised her. "Do what feels right. If he doesn't see how great _you_ are and he turns you away, that's his loss."

"I guess," she said tentatively. She'd known him less than a week. Intellectually, she knew she really needed to slow down. But her heart told her something else entirely.

House finished showering and got dressed. He found Ann sitting in the living room, drinking coffee.

"Where's Bob?"

"He went out to get a newspaper. He can't do Saturdays without the Times, apparently."

"Okay. Listen, do you have any leftover boxes from your move here?" House asked. "I'm going to move out of Wilson's loft and I need some to collect my stuff."

"Yeah," Ann replied, "There's a bunch down in the basement. I'll go get some for you. How many do you need?"

"I don't know," House confessed. "I'm not sure how many boxes I can use at a time."

"What do you mean?" Ann questioned.

"Well, my leg tends to get tired when I lift things," House almost mumbled. This probably wasn't such a good idea after all. Now he would have to explain, at least somewhat, the extent of his disability to Ann. And now she would know how useless he really was.

"You're planning to do this yourself?" Ann asked.

"Um, yeah," House said, feeling even more feeble.

"Why can't Wilson help you?" Ann questioned, her anger rising. "He's the jerk that's kicking you out."

"I just can't ask him," House admitted.

"Well, I'll help you, then," Ann stated.

"I can't ask you, either," House said. "You hardly know me . . . "

"You didn't ask me, I volunteered," Ann interjected. "Are you going to need a place to store your stuff? My basement is practically empty."

"No, thanks," House's uneasiness was growing. Why was this woman being so nice to him? Didn't she know he was a bastard and didn't deserve it? "I kept the lease on my old apartment, so I'll just move my stuff back there."

"Okay," Ann sensed House's discomfort. "Listen, I don't want to push myself on you. It's just something I do. I've had so much help from my friends through some pretty bad times that I try to return the favor to either them or someone else, if I can."

"I thought you were an atheist."

"I am. What's that got to do with it?"

"It sounds like you believe in karma."

"I think it's more of a 'Pay It Forward' kind of thing, but, whatever. Hey, that reminds me of my favorite bumper sticker of all time: 'My karma ran over my dogma.' "

House couldn't help but smile a little. He really liked this woman. And not just because she was so incredibly hot. She treated him well. And what she said amused him.

"I guess I could use some help."

"Okay," Ann agreed. "When?"

"I think Sam and Wilson are going away next weekend, so that would be a good time."

"My friend Tom will be here next weekend, so that should work."

"I can't imagine your friend will want to help someone move that he doesn't even know."

"First of all, he'll get to know you. Second, he and I don't really care what we do, as long as we get to see each other."

Ann's affection for this Tom person was obvious, even to someone like House, who didn't do emotions very well. "Are you sure you're going to want to be around me while he's here? I wouldn't want to interfere with anything intimate."

"Intimate? What does that mean? What kind of person do you think I am? We're talking about a relationship with each other, and I'm having a guy visit so I can take a break and bang him? I don't do things like that. Anyway, he's married."

"A lot of married people aren't faithful . . . "

"No, he's _married_. As in high school sweetheart, thirty-five years, mother of his son, love of his life. In any case, he was a friend of my Dad's and he's been like a father to me since my Dad died."

"A friend of your father's?"

"They served in Vietnam together."

"He's not career military, is he?"

"No, he was drafted out of high school, did his tour and got the hell out. Why?"

"My dad was career military."

"Was that why your childhood was shitty? Moving all the time, and your dad away for long periods?"

"Actually, I was happiest when he was away."

"Oh . . . "

"We don't' have to get into this now, do we?"

"No. Sorry for pushing again."

There was an awkward pause.

"So," Ann started again, "You're going to get your stuff next weekend. Where are you going to stay in the meantime?"

"I should probably go and open up my apartment. I need to get used to staying there again."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"What about Bob?"

"Well, he can either come with us, or amuse himself around here."

"You sure I'm ready to be left on my own, Mom?" Bob asked as he entered the living room.

"Now that you mention it," Ann smiled, "I'm not positive I can leave you by yourself . . . "

"Well, I need to get in some practice before tonight, and my piano is there, so . . . " House inserted himself in the banter between the two friends.

"I'm an old fart," Bob stated. "I'll stay here, read the paper and then take a nap this afternoon so I'll be okay to be up late tonight. You young folks go _practice_."

Ann giggled and House smirked. They left shortly afterward for House's apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

Ann was quiet on the way over to House's apartment. She felt she had really been pushing herself into his life, and she didn't want to overwhelm him. She also wanted to pay attention to where his apartment was, in case she was ever invited there.

They arrived and found a parking space directly in front of the building.

House unlocked the front door and entered first, with Ann following. The place smelled slightly musty, but considering no one had been in it for more than a year, it wasn't too bad.

Ann was impressed by the furnishings. They were classic and masculine and it looked like he'd spent some time putting everything together. There was an abundance of bookshelves for a one-bedroom apartment. Ann looked at the some of the titles as House made his way to the piano. She noticed that there were several languages represented. She didn't know him that well, but she was pretty sure he wasn't one of those people who bought and displayed books just to impress others. So, Ann assumed that he actually read the books, hence that he knew multiple languages.

"So, you sing?" House asked Ann as he sat down on the bench. He began with scales to see how badly the piano sounded. Since he'd spent money to keep the apartment at a reasonable temperature and humidity all these months, and since no one had had the chance to mess with it, the piano was still pretty much in tune.

"What exactly did Bob tell you?" Ann asked.

"He said you had an amazing voice," House responded.

"Well, nothing like creating unrealistic expectations," Ann grumbled. "I'll have to talk to him about that when we get back."

"What do you sing?"

"When I was singing in college, I did baroque and medieval works, but I don't practice that anymore. I sing mostly popular stuff, although songs that were popular a while ago. Things from the '40s through the '80s. I'm not really familiar with what the kids listen to today."

"Oh, God," House rolled his eyes. "You're not going to attempt to convince me again that you're old, are you?"

"Well, compared to a teenager, I certainly am."

"Yeah, and compared to a senior citizen, you're young. So what? How old are you, exactly?"

"I'll tell if you'll tell."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Okay, I'm fifty-one."

"Really? You look younger than that."

"Please, when I look in the mirror, I look that old and more."

"No you don't. And you have a body that a lot of twenty-year olds would envy."

"The ones that do nothing but eat junk food and have their butts welded to the couch, maybe. Anyway, quit the ego fluffing and answer the question - how old are you?"

"I'll be thirty-six in November."

"I'm dating a child."

"I don't feel like a child. I feel pretty old some days."

"Really? Do you wake up every morning with chronic pain in your leg, and significant aches in the rest of your body from overcompensating? Do you think you have ten, maybe fifteen years before you'll be arthritic enough all over that you'll need a wheelchair?"

House hadn't meant to get into all this with Ann, but he thought enough of her by now to let her know what she would be in for long-term if she decided to be with him. A part of him expected her to run in the opposite direction. And another part hoped desperately that she wouldn't.

"Are you going to get one of those motorized ones? I always wanted to race those."

House, master of deflection himself, knew it when he saw it. "Just stop saying you feel old."

"Okay, maybe not physically, yet. But emotionally, there are days . . . "

"Listen, I don't know much about you, but I'm guessing your life has been nowhere near as shitty as mine has been."

"Is that right?"

"Well, you told me you had a normal childhood, whatever that is. I wouldn't know. I had kids beating the crap out of me on a regular basis because I was always the new kid. And then I went home and got more abuse."

"It was your dad, right? What did he do?"

"He gave me ice baths, he made me sleep outside, and he beat me with his hand, his belt, wooden rods, or whatever was available that would hurt. He belittled everything I did. He constantly told me what a loser I was."

"My childhood wasn't wonderful or terrible. My parents were pretty good to me – no abuse or anything. I got teased because of my body when I was a teenager - you know - Annie with the huge fanny, stuff about my big boobs, and worse. Things that when you're an adult they call sexual harassment. My Dad died when I was twenty-five, and it was really rough after that."

"What happened?"

"Well, I was always my dad's girl, so his death hit me really hard. That's when the drinking got really bad. I wound up marrying a guy I didn't really love to compensate for my father's death. My drinking escalated, and he was very patient, but even he got fed up and left me, and I can't say that I blame him. And then . . ." Ann hesitated and looked away.

"What?"

"After my divorce, I was out drinking one night. I took a cab and stopped at a liquor store. When I got home, I drank some more. I was so wasted, I forgot to lock the doors. Three men came in and attacked me."

"You got beaten up?"

"And cut with a knife." Ann pulled back the hair from around her face and showed House three scars. "There are some under my makeup, too. You see now why a few wrinkles don't bother me?"

"Did they rape you?"

"Yes . . . " Ann stared down at the floor and her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "In my butt and my mouth. That's why even though you've been doing some wonderful things for me with . . . your tongue, I haven't . . . reciprocated. I'm afraid I'll have flashbacks. I may get past it at some point, but I don't know when. If you really want or need that, I may not . . . be the one for you. I'm just going to call a cab and leave now . . . "

Ann turned away and pulled her cell out of her pocket. She appeared to be searching for a cab company to call.

"Stop," House interrupted her. He got up from the piano bench and, as gently as he could, took the phone away from her.

What had happened to Ann was horrible, and House had no idea what to say. There wasn't anything he could say that wouldn't sound stupid or patronizing. So, he just enveloped her with his arms. Without even realizing it, he began to move with a slow rocking motion. He held his breath, waiting to see if she would push him away. He felt himself relax as she slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

They moved like that for a while, until his leg began to protest. He brought her over to the couch and pulled her down with him. She sat as close to him as she possibly could and they continued to hold each other.

Finally, she pulled back slightly and looked up at him. There was something in her eyes that House couldn't identify at first. It slowly dawned on him that it was gratitude. She was thankful that he hadn't freaked out hearing what had happened to her and that he had at least tried to comfort her. He wondered how many men had rejected her in the five years since the attack.

It also solved a mystery for him. He had noticed that she didn't seem at all disturbed or even curious when he mentioned his stay in Mayfield. For the average person, just saying the word "psychiatric" was enough to make them nervous. And saying that you spent time in a psychiatric hospital was usually enough to get them moving rapidly away from you. House concluded that Ann hadn't reacted because she'd most likely had therapy herself. Probably pretty extensive therapy for a trauma as severe as that.

"Oh, God," House uttered as he realized something else.

"What?" Ann asked, getting ready to pull away. She was thrilled with his initial reaction, but she wasn't kidding herself. After everything sank in, he could still reject her. It had certainly happened before.

"They took you in the butt, and I had to indulge myself and do doggie style. Did I hurt you or scare you? If I did, I'm sorry."

Ann relaxed. This was a gesture of concern, not revulsion. "It was fine. In fact, it was great. No one has ever made me come from that position except you."

"I cheated," House admitted, lightly running the finger he'd used to bring her to orgasm the night before along her cheek and across her lips. He was so relieved he hadn't hurt or traumatized her.

"Don't sell yourself short. I was damn close already. How did you manage to hit the right spot with every thrust? And that ball sack! Every time it hit my clit I thought I was going to explode."

House smiled. He leaned in to kiss her softly and she returned it. He slid his hand under her top and drew soft circles on her back as she put her hands under his t-shirt and caressed his chest.

"I'm not sure how clean the sheets are after all these months," House said when they broke for air.

"Can we do it on the couch?" Ann questioned breathlessly.

"Probably not missionary," House explained, indicating his leg with a wave of his hand.

"Do you mind if I take a ride?" Ann whispered, almost shyly.

"Works for me," House agreed.

He leaned against the back of the sofa and reached into his pocket to grab a condom. Ann undid his belt, and the button and zipper of his jeans. She had him lift his butt and she pulled down his pants and boxers. Then she removed his t-shirt.

House was stiff but not yet at full height. Ann stroked him for a couple of minutes, and then held his cock with one hand while pulling back his foreskin. She gently ran her finger around on the exposed tip. House hissed at the unexpected sensations. He also was reminded how much more he was going to enjoy sex once Ann was on the pill. _Pretty soon, skin on skin_ House thought as Ann rolled the condom on him.

Ann let go of him briefly as she took off her clothes. She climbed on the couch, putting her knees on either side of his hips. She wanted to be mindful of his leg, but she also didn't want to kill the mood by making a big deal out of it.

She felt his tip at her opening and slowly eased herself down on him. She looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

"You feel so good around me," House whispered as he leaned forward and began kissing and licking her neck. She sighed and he was emboldened to go further, nipping and sucking at her collarbone. Her body her began twitching in response to what he was doing, which just encouraged him to continue. He bit down hard in a spot halfway up the side of her neck. He was sure he was leaving a mark, but it felt so good and Ann did nothing to stop him.

She began moving up and down on him, his cock hitting deep inside in just the right places while her clit rode along on the outside, getting rubbed the right way, too. When House began to lick and caress her nipples, she knew she was being stimulated in every way possible, and she wasn't sure how long she could hold on. She didn't need to wait to find out. She came with full force in only a moment, shaking and moaning for all she was worth.

Ann's orgasm had done some amazing things to House. But, he was not quite there yet, although he was close. From the noises he was making, Ann became aware that he needed a little more time and attention. She moved her body faster up and down and began kissing and licking his neck. House shivered as she bent down to flick her tongue across his nipples. She traveled back up to his neck, sucking and nibbling as he had done with her. She found a spot just behind and below his ear and she sunk her teeth into him. He cried out in both pain and pleasure.

House grabbed her buttocks and squeezed as they both approached their orgasms. Ann started and her muscles contracting around House brought him over the edge. Their bodies shook together in complete abandon as they both cried out.

Ann remained sitting on House's lap with his cock inside her as long as she dared. She finally had to move because of his erection fading and the condom beginning to slip and because of his leg.

She slid off of him and lay down on the couch, with one leg still resting over his hips.

"The things you do to me," she uttered softly as she shifted on to her back, moving her leg off him. Her legs were spread and House could see that she was soaking wet and throbbing.

House slipped off the condom, tied it and put in on the floor next to the couch. He lay down beside Ann and put his arms around her.

House looked at her. "You aren't too shabby yourself."

She smiled. "Thanks."

House looked at her neck closely. "I think I left a mark."

"Me, too," Ann said as she gently rubbed the spot near his ear.

"I don't know any of Bob's friends, so I don't care if they see these. And they should be faded by Monday when we go back to work."

"Except you're forgetting that Bob invited your team and Wilson to come to the club tonight."

"Oh, shit. Well, maybe I can wear a turtleneck and you can wear a scarf."

"It's July in New Jersey. It's nine-five with ninety-seven percent humidity. No way."

"It's air-conditioned there, right?"

"Except the air conditioning in these places is never very good, and we'll be up on stage under hot lights. Is it really that bad that people see this?"

"Other than it being obvious to anyone that we're doing it, I guess not."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I think Bob already told your team and Wilson."

"And I saw Wilson in Cuddy's office yesterday afternoon, so that means she knows, too. Terrific."

Ann turned to look at him. "Is it really so terrible that they know we're together? Am I that embarrassing to you? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

Damn. The last thing House wanted was to make Ann feel badly. "No, no, that's not it at all. I just like my privacy. If anything, I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

"By having everyone know that I'm happily fucking a brilliant, funny, talented, handsome man that exudes sexiness from every pore of his body? How is that not good for me?"

"Well, when you put it that way . . . " House's face broke into a small smile.

"You're sure you're not ashamed of this?"

Even though everyone around him believed that House didn't care what other people thought, and that was certainly true when it came to his profession, it wasn't quite as valid with his personal life. He didn't know why he felt the need to conceal any positive relationships he might have, other than John's constant attempts to make him feel like he didn't deserve to be happy. House's father was dead and it was time for him to let go of all that toxic conditioning. So, it was time to stop caring what others thought about his relationships, especially this one.

"To have everyone know I'm banging an intelligent, funny, strong, beautiful woman with a rack like a goddess? How is that not good for _me_?"

There was a pause in the conversation as they took some time to simply enjoy holding each other.

"Are we actually going to practice?" Ann asked. "I mean music, that is?"

"I've played piano in the nude," House stated, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Have you ever sung without clothes on?"

"Are you just trying to see how my tits jiggle when I move air through my lungs?"

"Busted. No excuses except my lecherous nature."

Ann giggled and they got up and made their way to the piano. They did actually spend some time making music in-between fondling and having a second go-round. It was around five when they got dressed and drove back to Ann's house. Not a bad way to spend a day, House thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

They returned to Ann's house to get ready.

After a few lewd comments from Bob about what they had been doing all day, which they didn't deny, they discussed what to have for dinner.

Since Ann hadn't had the chance to prepare anything, it was hot, and they didn't want a huge meal weighing them down when they were going to be performing, they decided on a pizza and an antipasto, which they had delivered.

Ann skipped the pizza entirely, saying she wanted to be singing b-flats, not belch-flats. She knew she'd hungry afterward and could have some cold pizza when they got back home. House and Bob took it easy, too, eating only a slice each and some salad.

They got changed and left at about eight, arriving at the club at eight-thirty.

House was taken backstage and introduced to the rest of the band. Except for Ann, the entire group was male, and mostly Bob's age – late fifties and early sixties. House was amused by the scene. They were a group of hard rocking guys who were close to being senior citizens. He supposed that if you didn't die before you got old, this was what happened. After all, Mick Jagger was in his late sixties, and Bill Wyman was close to seventy-five.

Maybe it was possible to live and make music for a while longer. Even if House did wind up in a wheelchair like he'd told Ann he would, he could still reach a keyboard. Once again, this made House feel that sissy emotion, hope. He really didn't want to admit it to himself, but getting away from Cuddy and Wilson and being with this woman and her friends seemed to be good for him.

They went out on stage and did some sound checks. They started playing around nine-thirty. It was a lot of classic rock: Led Zepplin, the Stones, The Who. Ann didn't sing then because most of the songs required a male voice. One of the guys with a cigarette-aged voice that sounded like walking on gravel did the vocalizing. They did a couple of Janis Joplin tunes and Ann was great with those, although she didn't have the grit of Janis's voice. They even turned to House on a few of the songs to do keyboard solos. Since it was all music he was familiar with, he was able to play it, even improvising on some of the songs. He felt he did an okay job, and the crowd was very receptive.

They stopped after about an hour and took a break until the second set. Bob told House that they were going to do some bluegrass and that he could sit out the second set, since they didn't need keyboards. House found himself alone at the bar, nursing a beer. Chase was the first to approach him.

"Pretty good," Chase stated as he ordered a beer for himself.

"Never miss an opportunity to suck up to the boss, eh?" House responded, although he said it without much malice.

Chase simply grinned and paid for his drink. "We have a couple of spare seats at our table, why don't you join us?"

"Okay."

House grabbed his drink and followed Chase across the club to a table fairly close to the stage. He sat down, with Chase taking the seat to his right and Thirteen to his left. Foreman sat to Chase's right, and Taub sat on Thirteen's left.

"Where's your wife?" House asked Taub after he was seated. "Easier to pick up other women when she's at home?"

"I asked her, but she refused to come," Taub answered. "She said I wasted too many nights at the hospital doing your grunt work to want to socialize with you voluntarily."

"Ouch," House said, not sounding particularly offended despite his words. "I guess she's not nominating me for boss of the year."

"I wouldn't count on that from any of us," Foreman stated matter-of-factly.

"Why are you even here?" House asked, turning his attention to Foreman. "Did Wilson pay you again?"

"Not this time," Foreman replied. "I was hoping not to be bored, but no luck with that."

House looked over at Thirteen and saw all the drinks sitting in front of her. "Let me guess. That one's from her," House said, indicating a woman sitting at the bar, "That one is from her," House guessed, pointing to another woman at the other end of the bar, "And there have to be at least three drinks from that table," House stated, indicating a table with two women holding hands with each other. "I didn't know you liked threesomes."

"Well, my usual is a guy and a girl," Thirteen said as she stirred one of the drinks, "But I try to be open-minded. And those two women do look hot."

At that point, House looked around the club. "Hey, isn't that Sam and Wilson over there? And is that Cuddy and Lucas sitting with them?"

"Yeah," Chase confirmed, as House got up to head to their table.

"This might actually be interesting," Foreman noted as House's team watched him move to a table nearby.

House arrived as Cuddy and Lucas leaned into each other and Wilson and Sam did the same. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea to House. He was starting to get that on-the-outside-looking-in feeling. Then he felt and an arm slip through his.

"Dr. Cuddy," Ann said, "How nice to see you here tonight."

"Thanks," Cuddy said. "This is Lucas."

Lucas extended his hand. Ann simply looked past it.

"I've heard so much about you," Ann said. "It's always nice to put a face to a name."

"Really?" Cuddy asked. "What have you heard?"

"Well, it's funny, but when I'm working on people's computers they seem to forget I'm there. So I hear things like 'desperate, pathetic cougar,' 'what could she possibly see in that man-child,' 'I could understand it if he was good in bed, but I hear that he's a two-minute wonder,' 'boy toy,' 'creepy,' 'psychopath.' You know, just harmless gossip," Ann said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The color had drained from Cuddy's face, and Lucas looked like he was ready to kill someone. "Who said I wasn't good in bed?" he demanded.

"A little humiliating when your most embarrassing secrets get a public hearing, eh?" House asked, with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

Wilson cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. "I'm James Wilson, and this is Sam."

"Ah, yes," Ann acknowledged. "Greg's so-called friend."

"What do you mean 'so-called'?" Wilson bristled.

"Well, aren't you the one who agreed to look out for him, and then proceeded to ignore him once you found a girlfriend? Aren't you ready to push him out of your condo without another thought?" Ann questioned.

"I have too thought about it! " Wilson insisted.

"Well, as long as you think about it first, then I'm sure your treating Greg like garbage to be tossed out is okay," Ann smiled sweetly and turned to Sam. "There's also a rumor that you used to be married to Doctor Wilson, is that true?"

"Yes," Sam acknowledged warily.

"I'm sure you're aware of how high the odds are against you doing anything but flaming out spectacularly, especially with his being a three-time loser, but I must say you're blind faith is almost romantic, in a wretched, doomed sort of way," Ann observed with another smile.

"You know, I haven't been out singing for a while. I'd forgotten how much fun it is. And this is only the second time I've heard Greg play. The first time was this afternoon in his apartment. It was like my own private concert. Of course, it really had to be private, what with both of us in the nude, and all. It was a great _practice session_." Ann gave an exaggerated wink.

Ann looked at House's neck. "Oh, sweetie, I really am sorry about biting you like that," she said as she smoothed the spot. "Of course, you gave me the idea," she smirked as her hand went to the spot on her own neck. "Well, what can you do when the sex is that hot and wild?"

At this point, House was smiling more than anyone had seen him smile in months, maybe even years.

Ann glanced at her phone, "Oh, look at the time, will you? I have to get back. The next set is bluegrass, and I hope you like it."

"I'm going back to sit with my team," House informed the stunned people at the table. "As you already heard, Ann has a fantastic voice, so, enjoy!"

With that, House limped back to the table with his fellows. Apparently, all four of them had managed to overhear the conversation at the other table, and they smirked and chuckled as House sat down.

"Now, _that_ made it worth coming here," Foreman said.

Ann sang most of the next set. It was acoustic and her voice was sweet and lyrical, but also had some power behind it. She sang at lot of Alison Krauss and Union Station songs, including "Lonely Still Runs Both Ways," "When you Say Nothing At All," and "Every Time You Say Goodbye."

The end of the set was approaching, and Ann spoke to the audience directly for the first time. "This is our last song tonight, and I'd like to dedicate it to Greg."

Bob's bass rumbled as Ann began to sing:

_It's been a long time coming,  
As we shed a lonesome tear.  
And now you're in a wonderama,  
I wonder what you're doin' here._

_The flame no longer flickers,_  
_You're feeling just like a fool._  
_You're starin' into your liquor,_  
_Wonderin' what to do._

_I don't really know you,_  
_But I'd be willin' to show you,_  
_A way to make you smile!_  
_Let me touch you for awhile._

_I'm gonna ruin my black mascara._  
_You're drinkin whiskey when it should be wine._  
_You keep a-lookin' into that mirror._  
_But to me you're lookin' really fine._

_I don't really know you,_  
_But I'd be willin' to show you,_  
_I know a way to make you,_  
_Laugh at that cowgirl as she's walkin' out your door._  
_I know a way to make you smile._

_Just let me whisper things,_  
_You've never heard before._  
_Just let me touch you, baby._  
_Just let me touch you for awhile._

_I don't really know you,_  
_But I'd be willin' to show you,_  
_I know a way to make you smile._

_It's been a long time,_  
_Let me touch you for awhile_.*

After two encores, the group went backstage. In fifteen minutes, Ann found House's table. They re-arranged the chairs so that Ann could sit next to House.

"That was so awesome," Chase commented. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Thanks," Ann responded. "I'd love some mineral water."

"Nothing stronger?" Chase asked, puzzled.

"I get really dehydrated singing," Ann replied. "And if I drink anything with alcohol, it just makes it worse."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Chase got up to go to the bar and get Ann her requested beverage.

"Don't think you can suck up to me indirectly by being nice to her," House called after him. He wasn't sure if anyone on his team would notice he was in full deflection mode, but he hoped not. He wanted to protect Ann from any awkward questions about her beverage choice.

"I can see why House likes you," Taub commented. "You're a cheap date."

"It's pretty much obligatory that I say 'But I'm not easy,' isn't it?" Ann smiled.

"Easy is boring," House stated. He surprised everyone at the table by putting his arm around Ann's shoulder. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as Chase came back and put her drink on the table in front of her. She thanked him.

"Did I miss anything?" Chase asked as he sat down.

"Ann didn't tell off Cuddy or Wilson again, if that's what you mean," Foreman noted.

"Sorry if I caused any trouble," Ann said to House. "It was just such an opportunity. The four of them sat there looking so smug. I just had to take them down a peg, especially after the way they've treated you."

Ann placed her hand on House's cheek and caressed his face.

"What did they do?" Taub asked.

"Never mind," House growled at him, moving her hand away.

"Like we don't know," Chase snorted. "The possum in the bathtub that did all that damage, not to mention making Wilson crap his pants, the loosened grab bar in the tub that made you fall and cut your face, the sprinklers flooding Wilson's condo and wrecking your stuff, Lucas tripping you in the cafeteria and then bragging about doing all of it."

"What?" Ann said. "I thought the Thanksgiving thing and Wilson pushing you out was awful. My God, these other things are felonies!"

"Thanks, Chase," House glared at his employee.

"It's not like she wouldn't have found out," Chase muttered to no one in particular, since House was so angry he wasn't listening.

"At least now I understand why people are calling him 'creepy' and 'psychopath,' " Ann stated.

"This isn't your problem," House told her rather abruptly.

"I know," Ann said. "It's just so . . . so . . . terrible! But you're right, I shouldn't interfere. Do you think we can just forget it and try to salvage what's left of the evening?"

"It's late," House said. "I should probably get going."

"I'll see if Bob's ready, and we can head out," Ann said

"Don't cut your evening short for me," House responded. "I'll just get a cab."

He grabbed his cane, stood up and turned to leave. He got about five steps when she caught up with him.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" she asked. Actually, she was almost pleading.

House hesitated. What was there really to talk about? Everyone he considered close to him was treating him like crap. So what? That was nothing new. John treated him like crap his whole life. He was used to it. What he wasn't used to was someone else objecting to it on his behalf. Okay, maybe there was something to talk about.

"Out there." House said, indicating the parking lot.

They went outside. A front must have passed through because there was a breeze and it was definitely cooler and less humid.

"Listen, I had a wonderful evening," Ann began. "A better evening than I've had in I don't know how long. And the afternoon was pretty fucking amazing, too. And the night before that. And Tuesday. What I'm trying to say is I think we already have something good here, and if I'm screwing it up because of my big mouth, please tell me. And please forgive me, too."

"You haven't done anything that you have to be forgiven for. You're only reacting to things that have happened to me. And your reaction reminds me just how shitty those things were. And I don't want to be reminded of that."

"I can't promise you that I won't have a bad reaction when someone does something that hurts you," Ann told him. "I care about you."

"I care about you, too. Even though I have a crappy way of showing it."

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Put yourself down. Listen, I know your father was abusive. And I know that the people you consider your friends haven't treated you the way you deserve to be treated. But that doesn't mean you have to internalize it. You don't have to believe them."

"What should I believe?"

"That you are talented and smart and funny and sexy. And even if you weren't, you are a human being and you are entitled to be treated with basic decency."

"I've done some things to them that weren't exactly kind . . . "

"Doesn't matter. This isn't grade school. Or nineteenth century Sicily, for that matter. They don't have the right to engage in tit-for-tat or vendettas, and they don't have the right to be your friend only when it's convenient. You are worthy of so much more than that."

There was a pause in the conversation.

"Listen, after the way I behaved towards you in there, I think I should go back to my apartment."

"The way you behaved? You got peeved because I stuck my nose in your business. That's something else you're entitled to do. If you can get past what I did, why don't you come back to my place? I'm not promising any wild sex like this afternoon because I'm really tired, but I'd sure like to sleep with you again."

There was a pause as House thought about her offer. Did he really want to give this up because he'd felt uncomfortable? Besides, she really wasn't the source of his discomfort, Cuddy and Wilson (and Lucas and Sam) were. Of course, her highlighting it all didn't help, but was that really such a huge deal? If he wanted to, he could find all kinds of not-very-important reasons why he shouldn't go back with her. But also he realized he really wanted to be with her.

"I want to sleep with you, too." House admitted in a whisper. He leaned in and kissed her softly. Ann released a breath she didn't know she was holding. How had he come to mean so much to her so quickly? She just hoped that he felt something, too. Ann pulled him closer and their kissing intensified.

At that moment, Cuddy and Lucas and Wilson and Sam had left the club and were heading out to their respective cars. They passed House and Ann, who were so wrapped up in each other, they didn't notice. They weren't even aware of the sound of car doors slamming in the parking lot.

"God, that's disgusting," Lucas commented as he started the ignition. "Why don't they get a room?"

"Just shut up and drive," Cuddy commanded.

"What did I say?" Lucas asked, completely bewildered.

Cuddy refused to respond and simply turned her head away to look out the window.

"What a rude bitch she is," Sam commented as Wilson put his car in reverse.

"Actually, I think she's pretty accurate in her assessment of things," Wilson responded. "I have treated House like garbage."

"Oh, God," Sam groaned, "Here comes the excessive guilt again. You've done everything you can for someone who doesn't want to be helped. It's time to let it go and move on."

"The thing is, he does want to be helped. He's really tried to get himself together the past year. I never acknowledged that. As far as 'letting go' is concerned, he's never kicked me to the curb when I needed him."

"So what? You're entitled to a life. And he's just not worth all the hassle."

"It's not a 'hassle.' And he is worth it. "

"Do you think she was right about us being doomed, too?"

"Well, looking at things rationally, we do have pretty long odds against us."

"This isn't a horse race, James, this is us. You need to have faith in us or it won't work."

"I know, but I'm just trying to be realistic for once in my life."

"Well, if you accept everything she says as true, not only are we going to fail, but you're behaving like a selfish bastard toward House. And everyone knows you're a very generous, selfless person."

"I guess," Wilson said without conviction.

They were quiet the rest of the drive home.

* * *

*Robert Lee Castleman


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

Ann and House finished their make-out session, and went back into the club. They said goodnight to House's staff and headed backstage to collect Bob.

After House promised he'd consider jamming with the guys again, the three left.

When they returned home, Bob went to his room, claiming he'd be up at six tomorrow regardless of how late he went to bed.

Ann was hungry, as she suspected she would be. There was a lot of pizza left, and they pulled some out of the refrigerator. Ann got House a beer and she had a glass of water.

"So, aren't those guys great?" Ann asked, hoping to pick a neutral topic.

"They're good musicians," House allowed. "And Bob seems like a good guy."

"He's the best," Ann said. "He's worked for his company for so long he has a shitload of vacation each year. I think he used most of it up when he went with me to every hearing and court appearance when my attackers were arraigned and went to trial."

"That's impressive."

"It certainly is. And the best part was how he behaved towards me. So many people I knew acted like it was my fault because I was so drunk. He told me the opposite – that what those men had done to me was all the more heinous because they took advantage of someone with an illness – addiction. He said if they taken advantage of me with any other sickness, say, I was in a wheelchair because I had MS, everyone would be falling all over themselves to be sympathetic. So, he said I was more than worthy of his support. And then he told me that even if people were right about my drinking, and I had done something to make it easier for them to come after me, I still didn't deserve what happened to me."

"That's almost saintly in its non-judgmental-ism."

Ann smiled, "Bob's no saint. He's screwed up enough things himself to know that a lot of it is just luck – some of us pay the consequences for our mistakes and some of us don't. But we all screw up, and if we happen to be fortunate enough to get away with it, that doesn't give us the right to judge others who didn't."

House's mind flashed back to the time Tritter was coming after him. Specifically, that Christmas Eve when Wilson found him on the floor of his apartment in a pool of vomit. It was obvious to everyone who knew him that House was behaving like the desperate addict he was. So, did it mean that because Wilson left him there alone that Wilson wasn't a good friend? House had excused Wilson's emotional distance and insensitivity after Amber died because he thought it was justified that Wilson blamed him for her death. He couldn't say that about Wilson abandoning him that night.

House decided he was too tired and it hurt too much to think about that right now. He was in the presence of a beautiful, sexy woman who had invited him to sleep with her. He knew from bitter personal experience that happiness was fleeting and he'd better enjoy it while he could.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" House asked.

Ann had finishing cleaning up from their snack. She slipped her arm around House's waist and he put his arm around her shoulder. They headed toward the bedroom.

They took turns using the bathroom, with Ann going first. When House emerged, Ann was naked and putting a nightgown and her robe across one of the chairs.

"What are you doing?" House questioned.

"I thought I'd put out some clothes so I have something to wear tomorrow when I get up to make breakfast."

"You're not going to wear it now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not at all. Do you want me au naturel, too? "

"Whatever you like, but if I get a vote, I say yes."

House quickly peeled off the t-shirt and sleep pants he was wearing and slipped under the covers. Ann turned out the light and climbed in after him. She curled against him

"God, this feels so good. I'm glad you decided to come back with me."

House pulled her closer and pressed his erection against her. "So am I. I'm so exhausted I'm half-dead and you still make me hard."

"We'll have to take care of that in the morning," Ann said as her voice became sleepy.

House listened as her breathing evened out. He began to drift off himself. This evening had been both really good and very painful. He decided to push everything away for now, in favor of enjoying this warm, beautiful body next to him and of getting some much needed sleep.

* * *

House woke up to the feeling of hands. In his haze, he concluded they were very skillful hands, touching him in all the right places. He opened his eyes to see Ann lying next to him, with a look of intense concentration on her face as she worked one hand up and down on his cock. House watched as she would bring her hand all the way to the tip, and pull back his foreskin as she pushed back down, twisting her hand to provide additional stimulation. Her other hand rested at the base for support, but, as soon as he was hard enough, it migrated downward and her fingers began tickling his balls.

House threw his head back and groaned loudly. He hadn't had this particular activity performed by anyone but himself for a long time, and he'd almost forgotten how good it felt when someone else did it.

Ann varied the pace of her movements, picking up speed and then slowing down. It was almost as though she wanted him to feel every stroke. House wanted to be cool about the whole thing, but he just couldn't be. In spite of himself, he grunted with pleasure. He gave up trying to hide his reactions and let everything show.

When Ann saw the gratification on his face and heard the noises he was making she could feel herself getting wet. God, this man was sexy. Just pleasing him was so hot. The way his body responded so quickly was amazing. It made Ann wonder how long it had been since anyone had touched him, and not just in a sexual way. She'd have to remedy that. And the good news was they had all afternoon.

Ann could tell from the muscles tensing in his ball sack and in his abdomen that he was close. She moved her hand faster until he was just about ready. She slowed down and watched as House ejaculated with full force. His semen sprayed out in thick ropes. Ann immediately aimed him so that his ejaculation hit her bare breasts. He pumped for a good thirty seconds before he was spent.

Ann crawled up the bed and lay down beside him as he panted. He noticed she was letting his semen dry on her ample chest.

"God, is there anything more beautiful than a sexy man spraying his cum all over your tits?" Ann asked rhetorically. She sighed with deep contentment.

It was at this point that House noticed something. "Did you know the bedroom door is open?"

Ann looked over lazily and said, "Yes, I guess so."

"You don't mind giving your houseguest a free show?"

"Oh, Bob? Apparently, there is an exhibition game with the Bills this afternoon, so he wanted to get home. He left about four hours ago."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

"Seriously? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"After Bob left, I came back to bed so I could sleep a little longer. And I did just get you up. Quite spectacularly, if I do say so myself."

House gave Ann a small smile. At that moment, his stomach decided to let them both know it was hungry.

"I really shouldn't take ibuprofen on an empty stomach."

"I have leftovers from breakfast this morning – fruit, bagels, bacon, and I can make you some fresh eggs. The coffee's cold, but I can heat it up in the microwave, or I can make iced coffee. Or, you can skip breakfast and I'll make you lunch."

House was amazed at this woman. She'd given him one of the best hand jobs he'd ever had, and now she was going to cook something just for him. He wasn't sure what he could have possibly done to deserve her, or why fate had finally granted him something good. It really didn't matter, he supposed. What had she told him? He had as much right as anyone else to be treated decently. And this was way better than decent. It was better than he ever expected.

He had told Nolan that happiness was his goal, but he had never anticipated he'd come anywhere close to that. All he really thought he'd achieve was being a little less miserable. And up until he'd met Ann, he couldn't even have attained that.

Suddenly, so many things he'd thought were out of his reach entirely seemed almost possible. Should he even dare to want that? He knew how easily happiness could be destroyed. And he didn't think he'd survive that devastation a second time. Still, what was the point in living if he didn't at least try?

House was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. All this thinking about his life and this chance for happiness was just too much. He needed to focus on something mundane.

"Don't you want to shower that off before you do anything?" House asked as he indicated his semen drying on Ann's breasts.

"Hell, no! I want to keep your cum on me as long as possible."

"Well, there's plenty more where that came from."

"And I'm looking forward to enjoying it on my boobs again and again. You know, in between having it inside me."

House leaned in to kiss her. She smelled salty and musky. As he had always suspected, it was a serious turn-on to smell your semen sprayed all over a beautiful woman's chest. It was like a porno come true. Little Greg was responding to it as well.

"Wow, you're already up for more?" Ann questioned as she felt his growing erection. "I know you need to eat, but, selfishly, I wanna do it first."

"Let's kill two birds with one stone," House proclaimed as he flipped Ann around so her feet were at the head of the bed. He parted her legs and began licking her lips.

"Oh, God!" Ann moaned as she felt House's tongue do its wonderful thing.

"You taste so good," House murmured as he continued his ministrations.

The vibrations of House's voice merely added to the wonderful sensations. She had already been aroused from watching him come and this just added fuel to the fire. When his tongue started working on her clit, she felt like she was completely turned inside out.

"Oh, Oh, Greg!" she cried as her orgasm hit, starting at her center and radiating out to the tips of her toes. She was expecting House to stop at that point, but he didn't. He kept licking her clit until she came again. He kept at it until she begged him to stop. Two more orgasms later.

She lay on the bed, panting and pretty much unable to form a coherent sentence. As her senses slowly returned, she was finally able to speak. "That was so intense. And fantastic. Thank you."

"Nothing like a little muff munching to start the day."

"That reminds me. Bob and I used to work with this guy. I remember he told me that when he was single, he lived in this apartment complex that was within walking distance of a bar called Muffy's. He used to say that their slogan was 'No muff too tough, we dive at five.' "

House smiled slightly. "So, that's how you met Bob? You worked with him?"

"In that giant, soulless multinational corporation, yes."

"And you left?"

"After the rape and the trial. I quit and took the job in California. I thought if I had a 'change of scenery' everything would be okay. You can probably guess how well that worked out. The flashbacks were so bad at one point, I almost started drinking again. It still took both Tom and my sponsor to convince me to get into therapy, ironically enough."

"What's ironic about it?"

"Tom has never been in therapy for his flashbacks. A lot of those Vietnam guys just toughed it out, with varying degrees of success. Anyway, he convinced me by telling me that I didn't want to wind up like him. He was never able to go camping with his son because sleeping outside brought everything back. He would become seriously depressed when it rained, because in rained almost every day in Vietnam. He told me he and Sharon had some bad years because of his PTSD."

"Wait a minute. Didn't you say they were the love of each others' lives, married for thirty-five years and all that?"

"I said they love each other. I didn't say it was some make-believe fairytale romance. They've had to go through tough times just like everyone else."

There was a pause in the conversation as House processed this. It pleased him to know that Ann didn't have unrealistic expectations when it came to relationships. It increased the odds this thing between them could actually work.

House's stomach rumbled even louder.

"Which is more urgent?" Ann asked. "Taking care of your hard-on or feeding your belly?"

House's leg wasn't bothering him too much, mainly, he supposed, because of the sex-induced endorphins. Still, he didn't want to push it.

"I'd better eat something so I can take some meds."

"Okay. We can take care of your other issue a little later," Ann said with a smile. "Breakfast or lunch?"

House wasn't sure what he was in the mood for, other than Ann. He really wanted to get back to her bedroom quickly, so he decided on breakfast since she already had most of it prepared. "I'll have some of the leftovers from this morning, if that's okay."

"Sounds good to me. I'll just go and get the eggs started."

House sat up carefully and reached for his sleep pants.

"Don't need those," Ann called out over her shoulder as she left the room.

House smiled and grabbed his cane. Maybe they didn't have to return to the bedroom to take care of him. He'd never done it on a granite countertop before . . .

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if there are any NFL exhibition games in July (i.e., Bob leaving early to go watch a Bills game). As a non-sports fan, it seems to me that all sports seasons get longer and longer every year, so I think it's at least plausible that there would be something NFL-related going on in July. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. :D


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

Breakfast was delicious and so was the sex on the countertop. House didn't know if Ann would be game, but she was actually excited about it. She told him she had wanted to christen the kitchen ever since they started seeing each other.

House felt so at ease with her, he had to remind himself it was less than a week they'd known each other. That made House wonder if he was wearing out his welcome.

"I think I should head back to my apartment this afternoon," he told Ann.

"Really?" Ann asked, not bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Why? Are you sick of me?"

"No," House replied. "I have to do some laundry before I go to work tomorrow."

"You have a washing machine in your apartment?"

"Actually, it's down in the basement of the building."

"Isn't it tough for you to go up and down stairs carrying a pile of laundry?"

"I manage _somehow_."

"Crap. I didn't mean for that to be . . . you know. I just wanted to offer my laundry room. It's on the same floor as the rest of the house."

"Are you just trying to get me to stay so we have time for nookie while my clothes get a wash and spin?"

"Not to mention all that time they have to be in the dryer . . . "

"Okay," House agreed with a smile.

House decided it was time to shower and get dressed. He went to his car to retrieve his dirty clothes. He hadn't really done any laundry since he'd been at the hospital most of the week. That, and he hadn't wanted to spend any time at the condo.

Wilson had a washer and dryer in the powder room of the loft, and House had gotten used to not having to carry his laundry up and down stairs. He was really going to miss that now that he was going back to his apartment.

He wasn't looking forward to dealing with stairs and his cane and attempting to carry a basket full of clothes, sheets or towels. This was especially true now that his choices of pain medication were so . . . limited. His leg hurt enough at times that he could very easily see it locking up on him while he was on the stairs, which would be bad news.

He could go to a laundromat instead, but he didn't like the idea of hanging out for hours in one of those places. They were boring as hell and the chairs weren't very comfortable for his leg.

He could always use a laundry service, but he hated the idea of spending money for something he'd been doing for himself since he was a teenager. He was too cheap on principle, and it also had the added bonus of reminding him on a regular basis just how disabled he really was. So, pretty much every choice sucked.

House went into Ann's laundry room. The washer and dryer were front loading and raised above the floor. As House put his clothes into the washer, he noticed how much easier it was going to be for him to move the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer without having to reach down into the drum, like he had to with a top-loader. The same would be true with the unloading the dryer.

He emerged from the laundry room to find Ann showered, dressed, sitting on the couch and channel surfing. He actually felt slightly disappointed that she'd washed herself.

"Couldn't take having my jism all over you any longer, huh?"

"It wasn't that. I hadn't showered since six a.m. yesterday, and I was still sweaty from singing last night, not to mention from our kitchen romp earlier. I was becoming rank."

"Now that you mention it . . . "

"Thanks."

"I was just agreeing with you."

"Was I really that bad?"

"Well, seeing as how I ate you out a mere two hours ago, I'd say not. What's going on with you, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Here's a woman who has no problem telling off a department head of a major metropolitan hospital and his physician girlfriend, and a dean of medicine of that same hospital and her psychotic boyfriend, in a public place, no less, and now she's all insecure?"

"Women are always insecure about their bodies."

"You didn't seem very insecure this morning, or yesterday afternoon. Geez, Tuesday night _you_ jumped _me_, as I recall."

"Let me re-phrase that – women are insecure about the attractiveness of their bodies at any given time. Like when they haven't showered in a while."

"On you, it's just a more aged, pungent flavor of the deliciousness that's there already."

"So, I should stop showering for a week?"

"Well, there is a point . . . "

"Just kidding."

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Whatever it is, the answer is 'yes.' "

"Wow! So you'll become my sex slave?"

"Whoa, take it easy! What do you really want?"

"I really want you to be my sex slave, but, unfortunately, that wasn't what I was going to ask you. Can I keep doing my laundry here?"

Ann decided that saying anything about House's apartment and the laundry set-up would simply make him feel inadequate, so she just responded, "Absolutely. Listen, in case I'm not here, let me give you something . . . "

Ann got up, went to the kitchen, and she returned with a key and a slip of paper with the code for the security system written on it. "This way, if I'm at work or I'm traveling and you need to get in and wash some clothes or sheets, you should be all set."

Ann placed the key and the piece of paper in House's hand. He stared at both items for a moment, and decided he could either make a big deal out of this, like it was some new phase in their relationship, or he could just take it for what it appeared to be – Ann trying to be helpful. He opted for the latter interpretation, just because everything seemed to be going so well with them. He knew if they got into a Serious Relationship Discussion, he was more than likely to screw it up by pissing her off or hurting her.

He put the key on the ring with the rest of his keys and then the key ring and the paper in his pocket, even though he had already memorized the code. He decided to deflect by moving the discussion to an entirely new topic. "Say, wasn't there a promise of some kind of adult activity while I waited for my laundry?"

"You're right. Why don't you sit here with me?" Ann indicated the sectional sofa in the living room.

House had thought they'd return to the bedroom, but he was game to try something else.

"You know I'm, um, limited, in what I can do on a couch," House reminded her.

"You were pretty amazing yesterday," Ann stated, "And this is a bigger couch. Take a seat."

House sat down next to Ann and waited to see what would happen. After everything that had already occurred between them, he was certainly not apprehensive. He was actually quite curious.

"When I was waking you up this morning," Ann said, "I noticed how, um, _responsive_, you were."

"That's good, right?"

"It was wonderful. And it made me think about . . . things." As Ann said these words, she began to caress House's neck.

"What things?"

"Like, how long it's been since anyone touched you," she murmured softly. Her hands continued to stoke his neck, and began to reach under his t-shirt to caress his shoulders as well.

At first, House wasn't sure what to do. He knew that his reaction in the past to being touched was to get the hell away. Probably all those years of John "teaching" him that physical contact was about pain.

But, hadn't House supposedly reached a place where he knew he didn't have to respond the way he'd been conditioned? Wasn't that the alleged purpose of all those hours spent in therapy? Shouldn't he at least try to be receptive?

He also knew that after what Ann said about how long it had been, if he continued to allow her to touch him, it would be like admitting it had been a while. Hell, if he was honest with himself, it had probably been for most of his life.

He'd certainly never been willing to pay hookers for anything above and beyond he basics.

He and Lydia had held each other and had sex, and they had held hands, but they never really had the time or the opportunity to do anything more.

Time was also an issue with Stacy when he was with her several years ago. It had to be quick because Stacy was married, and couldn't spend the night leisurely making love.

Even before that, when he was in the relationship with Stacy, it had always been primarily about the sex, not about physical closeness. Stacy was too focused on her career to spend a lot of time lazily cuddling, and she really wasn't the touchy-feely type, anyway. House had thought he liked that about her, and, when he was healthy, it worked out well because it fed his image of himself as a stud (not to mention boosting his male ego).

Of course, once his leg surgery was performed, his self-image as a strong lover was destroyed. If they had had any other basis for their physical relationship, they might have survived her betrayal of his wishes. As it was, House's personality became impossible and their physical relationship became non-existent. In spite of several months of denial on her part, eventually Stacy was forced to conclude that they just couldn't make it work any more and she left him.

As House pondered all of this, it didn't register that Ann had pulled his t-shirt over his head until it was done.

"Has anyone told you lately what a muscular, beautiful, delicious upper body you have?" Ann practically purred as the motions of her hands increased. She was now caressing his chest, arms and abdomen, in addition to his neck and shoulders. "I've wanted to touch you like this since the first time I saw you without a shirt."

House was surprised to realize that his body was leaning into her touch, certainly without his conscious knowledge, and almost without his consent. At this point, he wanted to check his higher brain functions entirely and just go with it. It felt so good, but, there was something else he couldn't quite understand.

He started to hear soft noises and someone was shuddering. It took House a moment to realize it was him. God, was he that wretchedly needy? He checked Ann's face for a response. It astonished him that she didn't look disgusted. The look on her face was . . . well . . . blissful. She was touching him, enjoying it and, even more remarkably, enjoying his reaction to it.

House then realized what the "something else" was. Not pity, not someone try to "rescue" him, not someone seeing him as pathetic and needing to be fixed. It was comfort. Ann thought that he, like every other human being on the planet, needed comfort and she was giving it to him.

"I want to touch the rest of you," Ann whispered as she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. House heard the zipper being opened. Ann put her hands on his hips and he lifted them in response. Both his pants and his boxers came off in one quick motion. Ann then removed his socks.

Ann was fully clothed and House was completely naked. Her eyes traveled up and down his body. "So beautiful," she murmured as she touched his hips and the front of his legs. She traveled lightly over his scar, but the contact wasn't any different from the way she was caressing the rest of him.

After her hands moved down his shins, she pulled his feet on to her lap. With her hands open, she pressed into the soles of his feet. It was a deeper caress than what she had been doing to the rest of him, and it made it possible for her to touch him without it being the least bit ticklish.

She bent down and pressed her lips to the tops of both of his feet, and then kissed each one of his toes. She moved her hands back to the top of his feet and rubbed her face against the sole of each foot. She sighed deeply and gave the bottom of each a sloppy, wet kiss.

In response to what she was doing to his feet, House felt an intense jolt between his legs. Ann smiled as she noticed his growing erection.

Her hands progressed up the backs of his legs. She gently turned him on his side as she touched his butt. His head rested on her shoulder and stayed there as she moved up his back. Her hands then went to his hair. She ran her fingers through it so lovingly that House didn't even think about it being too thin.

She lifted his head away from her shoulder and brought her hands to his face. She caressed his forehead and his cheeks. She kissed his nose and his chin. She put her lips over his and moved them lightly, ever-so-gently teasing his lips into her mouth.

House pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. He was close to being completely overwhelmed. He knew the only way he could keep from breaking down was with physical release.

Ann seemed to anticipate what he needed when she reached down to the floor and grabbed his pants. She went into his pocket and pulled out one of the packets. She opened it, removed the condom and rolled it on House's straining cock. She pulled off her shirt and stood up and removed her shorts and panties. Since she wasn't wearing a bra, she was naked as she lay down on her side and put one of her legs over the back of the couch, spreading herself before him.

House moved to lie on his side facing her. He was prepared to touch her to get her sufficiently ready, but when his fingers found her core, he discovered she was already dripping wet. Could she have become that aroused just from touching him? God, could simply giving him comfort make her want him _that_ much?

House was teetering on the edge emotionally as he eased himself inside her. He began to rock back and forth, pushing himself in and pulling himself out of her. Ann copied his rhythm, meeting his thrusts, helping him to reach deep within her.

House' orgasm approached quickly. He was pretty sure Ann wasn't ready to climax, but his need was so urgent. He knew if his body didn't let go soon, his emotions would, and he just didn't know if Ann could handle that. He was fairly certain he couldn't.

Just before his orgasm started, he reached down and rubbed her clit. As she went over the edge, he came, finally finding the release he thought would spare him.

The trouble was, it didn't. As wave after wave crashed over him, his emotions only built up further. After a while, he simply couldn't stop his feelings from drowning him. He buried his face into Ann's shoulder as the tears spilled out on to his cheeks, slid into his beard and dripped off.

At first, Ann thought House's ragged breathing was a result of his coming down from his orgasm. Except that instead of calming down, it became more intense as the time passed. Then, Ann became aware that her shoulder was getting wet.

Ann didn't know House very well, but she knew he was uncomfortable with strong emotions. She was pretty sure if she said anything to him about his crying, she would embarrass him or worse.

She didn't really understand why he was reacting this way. Surely, what she had done hadn't hurt him. Could what she had suspected really be true, that he hadn't been touched in so long, he was simply overwhelmed because someone had finally fulfilled that deep, aching need?

She honestly didn't know what to do. So, she did the only thing she could think of and pulled him as close to her as possible.

"It's okay, baby, I've got you," she spoke softly as she rubbed circles on his back. As she continued to reassure him, the storm slowly subsided and his breathing began to sound normal again.

House kept himself buried in her shoulder, afraid to show her his tear-stained face.

Ann knew the couch wouldn't be comfortable for him for very long.

"I'm still tired from last night," she whispered to him. "Want to lay down with me in bed for a while?"

"Just let me put my clothes in the dryer," House said, his voice still thick. "I'll meet you there."

Ann gave him one last, long kiss on the top of his head. House got up and went to the laundry room as she went to her bed.

He put his clothes in the dryer, and when it was started and was making sufficient noise, he turned on the water in the sink and splashed his face. He wiped himself off with one of the paper towels he tore off a roll he found sitting on the top of the washer. He blew his nose, threw all the used towels in the waste basket and limped slowly to her bedroom.

As he entered the room, he saw Ann had pulled back the sheet. Her long hair was spread out across her pillow, forming an auburn halo around her head. She was completely exposed, with her arms open and her legs spread apart. Her center was still glistening from the encounter that they just had. The word "goddess" popped into House's mind as he looked at her. How was it possible that he'd had three orgasms with her today and he wanted her even more? He was too tired now to do anything about it, but he was sure they'd be together again, either tonight or tomorrow morning. Maybe both.

He climbed on the bed and pressed against her open, inviting body. She covered them and they held each other as they drifted off into much-needed sleep.

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A/N: So, this chapter featured laundry, sex, a tiny amount of fetish, intense emotion and House losing it. Since I've been criticized in my other writing for letting House cry, I just hope he wasn't too OOC here. (Hey, maybe it wasn't the crying, it was the laundry! ;D). As always, reviews are appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Let me just say thank you for all the reviews, alerts, favorites, etc. I'm not as good about responding to individual readers as I should be, but I hope you'll forgive me if I tell you that I spend the time writing the story instead (or, at least thinking about the plot, anyway). Thanks for your patience and I really do appreciate everything!

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Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House was right about the sex. They enjoyed each other that night and they even woke up early for a quickie before work the next day.

House had liked the weekend so much, he hated to go back to work. But he guessed that Cuddy was probably still pissed about Saturday night, and he didn't want to give her any pretext to pile on extra clinic hours or formulate other punishments. So, with Ann's help, he actually made it on time, give or take a half-hour.

It turned out that Cuddy was in a board meeting for most of the morning, so she didn't have time to make his life a living hell. Well, there was always the afternoon, House supposed.

Keeping in mind Cuddy's possible fury (or Lucas's vindictiveness), he checked carefully for tripwires and booby traps before entering his office, and cautiously checked his desk and chair as well.

He had also warned Ann to be careful. She merely told House that if either Cuddy or Lucas even attempted, let alone did anything to her, she'd have them arrested and facing criminal charges before the day was over. Her last comment on the subject was, "Bring it on!"

House found that he actually enjoyed the astonished looks he received from his team as they observed him arriving on time. After he was sure his office was safe, he went into the conference room, got some coffee, and ordered them to find him a new case.

He told them they'd better find one before Cuddy's meeting was over, or, since she was most likely still in a bad mood over what happened Saturday night, they'd all be spending the afternoon in the clinic, dealing with heat stroke victims and moms who were such idiots they didn't realize that extremely high temperatures combined with humidity plus lazy diaper-changing practices led to ugly red rashes on their wailing spawns' behinds.

After that exhortation, the team seemed truly energized to find a case.

House was sitting at the conference room table, drinking his coffee and reading a medical journal. He observed Wilson's surprise at seeing him in so early, as Wilson rushed by to deal with his latest pseudo-emergency. House considered all Wilson's "emergencies" to be fake, since most of Wilson's patients were terminal. Did it really matter if they died today or in three months? Maybe to the patients, but it sure as heck shouldn't have mattered to Wilson, other than his compulsive need to demonstrate to anyone who would notice what a "dedicated" doctor he was.

House was not one of those people, of course. Results mattered, not some pathetic show for the patient's family or your fellow doctors. Wilson was forty, not fifteen, and he needed to grow up and stop worrying about what everyone else thought of him. Wilson wasn't self-aware enough to know that he was too old to continue trying to be the most popular kid in the sophomore class.

Seeing Wilson also reminded House of his next I-just-don't-want-to-deal-with-it thing. What Ann had said at the club had let Wilson know about House's plans to move out. Since House had gone back to his apartment, he had a place to stay, but he still needed to retrieve his stuff, which wasn't happening until next weekend.

He really didn't care about most of it, other than a few of his vintage t-shirts, his guitars and a couple of other things. House was almost positive Wilson wouldn't do anything to his stuff before he had the chance to move it.

Of course, there was that time Wilson had tightened the strings so tightly that it pulled the bridge out of the Flying V. That had cost House a serious amount of money to get fixed, and the guitar would never be the same, either for playing or if he wanted to sell it.

Then again, Wilson had done that in an effort to get House to hire a new team, in other words, when he was still trying, in his own way, to assist House. Now that Wilson no longer seemed to care, it was doubtful he would ruin House's stuff in an effort to "help" him.

House pondered that for a minute. How twisted was the situation for House to think his things were _safe_ because a friend of his no longer gave much of a shit about him? It was bizarre, now that he thought about it. At a minimum, it qualified as ass-backwards. At worst, it was the definition of a dysfunctional relationship.

To some extent, all of this musing about what Wilson might do was a moot point, because even if Wilson did nothing, House still had to be concerned about what Sam would do. She was certainly enough of a bitch to cut up his clothes and harm his instruments. He realized he needed to do something before the weekend. He just hoped he wasn't too late already.

It was mid-morning when House paged Foreman. He said both Hadley and Chase had each found what appeared to be interesting cases in the ER and Taub had been working on something from the clinic.

House told them to report to the conference room with the files. While he waited for them to appear, he called Ann. He asked her if she had any free time at lunch. When she said yes, he asked her to meet him in the lobby at eleven forty-five.

When his team returned, they went over their potential cases and picked the most promising. House sent them off to do testing and get a better history while he told them he was going out to lunch and not to bother him until they got some test results. Since his taking a case and then leaving his team to do the grunt work while he left to do something enjoyable for himself was typical House behavior, no one on his team questioned it. That, plus House being seen leaving the lobby with Ann would be the perfect fake out for Wilson and Sam.

Ann was on time and they headed out to the parking lot.

"Can we take your car?" House asked. "It has a good alarm, right?"

"Are you kidding? I bought this car when I lived in California. Any alarm that was below the decibel level needed to destroy human and dog hearing within ten miles pretty much guaranteed the car would be stolen. So, yeah, it's excellent."

"Good."

"Why do we need a good car alarm? Are you taking me to Newark for lunch?"

"Much worse. We're going to Wilson's loft."

"Why?"

"To get some of my things."

"I thought we were doing that on Saturday."

"This is going to sound paranoid, but I'm afraid that the stuff I really care about could get destroyed by Saturday if I don't get it now."

"Doctor Wilson would destroy your stuff?"

"No. But Sam would."

"Wow! Do any of your so-called friends hook up with anyone who _isn't_ psychotic?"

"Apparently not. Although I'm not sure what that says about me . . . "

"All it says to me is that up until about a week ago, you needed a little help with your taste in friends."

"Interesting. Who did I meet about a week ago?"

"The woman whose car alarm, when tripped in Princeton, New Jersey, can get her ticketed in Manhattan for noise pollution. Again, why does the alarm matter?"

"It will be obvious that whatever I take from the condo is important to me. We won't have time to bring it back to my apartment until after work. I don't want to leave it in my car where it's easy to get to."

"Okay. I'd almost be willing to agree that you were overly suspicious if I didn't know what Lucas had done to you."

"You don't think I'm over-reacting?"

"What's that famous quote? It's not paranoia if someone is actually out to get you."

"That's comforting . . . or _not_. We're here." House indicated where to turn to go into the parking lot of Wilson's condo.

They got out and House realized that his key might not work if Sam had been devious enough to get the locks changed. Given that most locksmiths didn't work on Sunday, it was at least unlikely. Of course, House wasn't above B&E to get information on a patient, so he'd certainly be willing to do it to get his precious guitars.

They took the elevator to the third floor and, thankfully, House was able to open the door with his key.

"Wow," Ann remarked, "This is really nice. What a beautiful kitchen."

"Wilson is a good cook," House stated.

"Does Wilson or Sam play?" Ann asked as she ran her hand over the organ.

"No."

"Then why do they have this?"

"Wilson bought it for me when he decorated the place. Before Sam came back into his life."

"That's a very generous gesture. Something a friend would do. So, how can he turn around and ignore you and kick you out?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm an intelligent person. If you explain it to me, I bet I can figure it out."

"You know that Wilson has been married three times, right? And he's had numerous other relationships that weren't successful."

"Given his marital history, that's not surprising."

"Well, I've been around for a lot of these failures."

"Uh-huh."

"Wilson thinks that being my friend has strongly contributed to, if not caused, his relationships to end."

"I was with you until that last sentence, then it didn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, these are Wilson's relationships, not yours, correct?"

"Yes."

"So how could he possibly believe that you are responsible for ending them?"

"Well, I'm needy and demand a lot of his attention."

"And he's an adult and isn't forced to give you that attention, so that's his choice. He's the one that's responsible, not you."

"And that's why he's forcing me out now, so he won't have me around to take his attention from Sam."

"He told you this?"

"More or less."

"No offense, but that has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever heard."

"What do you mean?"

"When you were addicted to Vicodin, was that the Vicodin's fault? When I was drinking too much, do you think I blamed the cabernet?"

"No."

"Well, then, where does Wilson get off punishing you because he can't stop giving you his attention?"

"Well, I had to stop taking the Vicodin completely, and you don't drink any more."

"But you're a human being. He's blaming you and hurting you because he can't find a balance in his own life. That's just not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"No it's not. But we still have the right to expect that our friends not treat us like we're the center of their universe one minute and a huge pain in the ass the next, at least if they want to remain our friends."

"Listen, this is all fascinating, but we're going to run out of time if we don't get my stuff and get going."

"And I'm doing that thing again where I remind you that one of your friends is treating you crap, aren't I?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll shut up. Where is the stuff you want to take?"

House showed Ann to his room. House wasn't sure, but it looked a little more disorganized than the last time he'd seen it.

"Was anyone in here, messing with your stuff, or are you just a slob?" Ann asked with a smile.

"Um, it's hard to say, but I don't think it was this bad."

House picked up his two electric guitars and examined them. They seemed intact and unblemished and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't be able to take his amplifier today, but even if something happened to it, he could replace it easily (not that it wouldn't cost enough, of course).

He went to his closet and grabbed two laundry bags, one for dirty clothes, and one for clean clothes he wanted to bring with him. He pulled out the case containing his acoustic guitar and set it next to the closet door.

Ann used one of the bags for the clothes she picked up off the floor. House took the other bag and went to the drawer containing his t-shirt collection. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they were still neatly stacked, the way he had left them. Nothing torn or shredded. Sam probably had no idea these shirts were here, let alone how valuable they were or what they meant to House. House put them carefully in the bag.

"What else?" Ann questioned.

"I've got a couple of books in the nightstand, and some sheet music in the desk."

Ann collected them and put them in the bag with the t-shirts.

"I can tell you're not a woman," Ann observed.

"Would it be my ten-inch penis that gives me away?"

"Well, happily for me, there is that. Plus, no self-respecting woman, given an hour to remove valuables from her bedroom, wouldn't run first thing to her closet to retrieve her favorite shoes. All thirty pairs . . ."

"I suppose I could grab some sneakers." House selected three pair of his favorites and put them in the bag with the dirty clothes.

"Anything else?"

I think that's all the stuff I wouldn't want destroyed."

"Okay, let's go."

As House grabbed the handle of the case for the acoustic guitar and lifted it up, they both heard something rattling inside.

"What was that?" Ann asked.

House had the case on the bed and was opening the clasps. As he lifted the guitar out, he blanched. The back of it had a big hole, and there were several pieces of wood of various sizes in the bottom of the case. It was obvious this was not damage that could have been sustained accidentally. It looked like someone had either put a fist or a shoe-clad foot through the back.

"Dear, God!" Ann exclaimed. She was tearing up. "Who could do such a terrible thing?"

"The only people who had access to this guitar were me, Wilson and Sam. Wilson wouldn't have done this; it's just pure destructiveness for the sake of it. It had to have been Sam."

"What about Lucas? He obviously has the ability to break in here."

"Lucas is a musician. A musician just couldn't do this. My other guitar got wrecked when he tripped the sprinklers, but he didn't intend for that to happen, I'm sure."

"Your other guitar?"

"I got a new one about three years ago and I brought it with me after Mayfield to Wilson's other apartment. I came with us when we moved here. After the new one was destroyed, I went back to my apartment and got this old one."

"How old?"

"I've had it since high school. With my dad in the army, we moved a lot, and we couldn't very easily move a piano around, so my mom would try to rent one, if we had the space for it. And then my dad would yell at her for 'pissing away good money encouraging a boy to act like a fairy by playing music.' Once I bought this guitar, I knew I'd always have music with me; music he couldn't take away."

There were tears streaming down Ann's face. "Do you think she knew what you just told me?"

"Wilson knew, because I told him about it just before I bought the new guitar. I admit I sometimes did play to aggravate them - lots of bad George Michael. Now that I think of it, I overheard Wilson telling her that he knew I was annoying her, but to try to cut me some slack because I was alone and lonely and then explaining to her how much the guitar meant to me."

Ann was now angrily wiping away her tears. "That horrible bitch! Even if she was trying to hurt you, to do it this way is so incredibly sick. She's a doctor! Would she intentionally mutilate or break someone's arm?"

"Most people who don't play instruments don't understand that it becomes an extension of your body. They don't get that it hurts you physically if something happens to it."

"Baby, I'm so, so sorry," Ann said as she crossed the room and slid her arms around House. They held each other for a moment, grieving silently.

House put the guitar gently back into the case. He closed it and took a breath. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

Ann and House each put the straps of one of the electric guitars over their heads and slid them around to their backs to carry them. Ann took one bag and House the other. House carried the case containing the smashed guitar. He didn't know what he was going to do with it, since it was beyond repair. He knew he couldn't just toss it in the trash. It would be like leaving the body of an old friend to rot in a dumpster.

The only good thing to come out of this was that he wouldn't have to explain either his pain or his attachment to a broken old guitar to Ann. She already understood exactly how he felt.

They went out through the living room. House locked the front door and they took the elevator down to the lobby. They put his stuff in her trunk and headed back to the hospital. They were quiet heading back, still trying to cope with what had happened.

"I hope you weren't expecting me to take you to some fancy place for lunch," House stated as they pulled into the PPTH parking lot, attempting to change the subject.

"You mean, like a date?" Ann asked, her face breaking into a grin for the first time since they left the condo.

"Something like that," House muttered, feeling embarrassed, and, if he admitted it to himself, inadequate. This woman had been so good to him, and he couldn't even take her to a measley lunch to express his gratitude.

Ann sensed his discomfort. "Hey, I was only kidding."

House looked askance at her.

"Remember what I said about not liking to dress up? What upscale place would you take me to in my current attire, anyway?" she asked as she indicated her jeans and top.

"Well, there's always leftovers and sex at my apartment."

"I'll make sure not to bring a lunch tomorrow!"

When House got back to his office, at least he had an interesting case to distract himself.

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A/N: I know House wasn't supposed to retrieve his stuff until Saturday, but I got to thinking that after Ann broadcast his intentions, House might get a little worried about the things that he left at Wilson's loft – at least the stuff he cared about. So, it gave me this opportunity to do something now. I'll try not to repeat myself on the "real" moving day with Ann and Tom. With Tom being a Vietnam Vet like House's dad, I think I'll be interesting, anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House became involved in his case and wound up working late Monday night.

Ann left early and brought his stuff home with her. She unloaded it and put House's dirty clothes in the wash, his books on one of her bookshelves, and his guitars and sheet music in her music room.

Without putting too much thought into it, she cleared some drawer space for his t-shirts, and put his sneakers in her closet. Afterwards, she wondered if House would consider what she'd done as pushing things a little too far or too fast in the relationship.

She then remembered that she had already given him a key and the security code. She hadn't meant for it to be a relationship milestone. She was just trying to help him out a little, as she would any friend. Since House didn't seem to get uncomfortable with it, she hoped the drawer thing wouldn't be a big deal, either.

If he questioned it, she decided she could tell him that if he planned to continue to sleep over on occasion, it would be a good idea for him to have some spare clothes there. She hoped that would make it sound purely logical, and nothing to do with their relationship progressing or her emotions about that. She could only hope he'd either take it that way or that he was okay with things moving forward. She'd have to see.

In any case, she didn't have a key to House's apartment to leave his things there. She also didn't know how secure his apartment was. House had told her Wilson had a key, and she didn't know if Sam could somehow get her destructive hands on it.

She had an alarm system on her place, and House was the only other person who could get in without attempting to break in, so she thought his things were relatively safe. She had never really cared that much about things herself. Her friends mattered way more to her than anything she owned, even as much as she loved her musical instruments.

As little as she knew about House, she was aware that he didn't have friends or family he could rely on, or even any attachment to a particular place. So, she assumed, his things must have taken on a greater importance to him than they would for most people. She wanted to make sure nothing more happened to them.

Although she felt most of his stuff was secure at her house, she was still worried. House's piano was in his apartment. Even if it wouldn't be as easy to break as an acoustic guitar, if Sam wanted to, she could do a hell of a number on it. There really wasn't anything Ann could do about that. It was in House's possession and up to him to figure out how to protect it. If he asked her, she would certainly agree to his bringing it to her place, but that seemed like an even bigger relationship milestone than the key, the drawer and clothes. So, she'd just have to be supportive and let him figure out what he wanted to do, if anything.

House stayed at the hospital until very late, absorbed in his latest case. He was so tired by the time he left the hospital, he went straight to his apartment. It was too late for take-out, he didn't have any food in the refrigerator that wasn't a scientific experiment, and the last thing he wanted to do was eat his dinner out of a can. So, he decided to just go to bed.

He lay there hoping his leg wouldn't hurt much worse than it already did, since he really didn't want to take a large amount of ibuprofen on a completely empty stomach. Nolan had suggested at one point that he should see someone about pain management. Of course, House, wanting to avoid being further fodder for the gossip mill at the hospital, hadn't done anything about that. And wishing that he had at one in the morning wasn't very productive

His mind continued to drift over the events of the day. The sex this morning, getting in on time for a change, the new case, and getting his things from Wilson's place. Shit! He'd left his stuff in Ann's trunk. He didn't want to call her because it was so late, but he knew he wouldn't sleep if he didn't check on it. Hell, who was he kidding? He really missed sleeping with her, and he just wanted to talk to her before going to sleep.

He felt like a selfish bastard as he dialed her number.

"Hey, baby," she said softly as she picked up the phone.

_She doesn't sound too pissed off, yet_, House thought. "Um, sorry to call so late and I apologize if I woke you up, but I was kinda curious what happened to my stuff."

"I was working until about a half-hour ago, trying to get caught up a little bit, so I wasn't really sleeping yet. Your stuff is here, locked up safe in my house, so don't worry about it."

"You brought it in?"

"Yeah, I didn't want Sam the Psychopath trying to break into my car and setting off the alarm, thereby making every neighbor within a ten-mile radius hate my guts."

"Well, thanks. I'm not sure when I can get over there to get it, since this case seems like it's going to take a while."

"No rush."

"I'm sure you won't want a pile of junk clogging up your hallway when your friend Tom comes for the weekend, so I'll try to get it before then."

"It's not in the hallway, so don't worry about it."

"I don't want to be picky, since you are helping me out here, but most of that stuff probably shouldn't be stored in a basement, unless the basement is completely dry."

"It's not in the basement, either."

"Do you mind if I ask where it is?"

"The dirty clothes are washed and in the dryer right now. The guitars and the sheet music are in the spare room with my instruments. The books are on one of my bookshelves, and the t-shirts are in my dresser drawer."

"Your bedroom dresser?"

"Yes," Ann hesitated. Time for the logical approach. "I just thought that if you're going to be sleeping over, you'd need a few changes of clothes here. So, I'll put the stuff that comes out of the dryer in either the same drawer as the t-shirts or in the closet, if that's all right with you."

There was a pause as House processed this. Now he had a drawer over at her place? This was moving so fast. Again, was he reading too much into it? Ann was right that he'd probably be sleeping over there, at least on weekends, so it did make sense to have some clothes at her house.

House also had to be honest with himself. After over a year, he was lying in his own bed in his own apartment, alone for the first time since before Mayfield, with no Wilson to pester him or Sam to annoy him, and he should have been ecstatic. Instead, he was lonely. And not for Wilson, or, most certainly, not for the evil Sam.

He wanted Ann. As tired as he was, he wanted to have sex with her, or, if he wasn't up for that, he at least wanted to sleep with her. He knew he couldn't do that every night, but at least if he kept some stuff at her house, he'd have an excuse to be there more often.

"Hey, are you still there?" Ann asked, sounding a little anxious.

"Yeah, I'm here," House acknowledged, trying not to sound too uneasy himself. "Listen, thanks for helping me today and taking care of my things. I appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Well, we both probably should try to get some sleep."

"Yes."

"I, um . . . "

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I miss you, too."

"Yeah." House couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

House noticed that just talking to Ann had relaxed him and the pain in his leg had calmed down considerably.

House had his case solved by late Wednesday night and spent two miserable days in the clinic after that. He took little satisfaction in being right that most of the patients were there due to heat stroke and diaper rash. Friday afternoon couldn't come quickly enough.

House went to Ann's place after work. He'd talked to her every night on the phone before they went to sleep, but he hadn't seen much of her at all, even at the hospital. He was really horny at this point, and all he wanted to do was just go in her house, rip her clothes off and take her right in the middle of her living room.

Of course, her friend Tom would be there. Ann had said she loved him like a father, House assumed Tom returned the familial feelings. No matter how great House's need, he thought that ravishing a woman in front of a paternal figure was probably a not a good idea.

It would be bad enough to wait until they went to bed. He just hoped she wouldn't be hung up about having her "father" in the house, and refuse to do it until Tom left. _Well, she loves Bob like a brother, and she had no problem having sex (rather loudly, in fact) when he was staying there,_ House reasoned to himself.

Then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. If it came down to it, he could always just jack off in the shower thinking of her, like he'd been doing all week. It would be tougher knowing she was in the adjacent room instead of across town, but he could still do it if he had to.

When he came in the front door, he heard conversation. The voices became louder as he limped slowly down the hall to the kitchen. He tried to figure out what Tom looked like based on his voice. It was deep, quite soft, and, every once in a while, he heard a word spoken with a slight Brooklyn accent.

House entered the kitchen. Ann was at the stove, flipping something, and Tom was standing behind the island, with his back to House. Ann rested the tongs against the pan and moved around the island and over to him. She put her arms around House's neck and kissed him on the lips. There wasn't a lot of tongue, but it was still quite passionate. She turned him to face Tom and introduced them.

"Tom, this is Greg House," she said. Did House hear a slight note of pride in her voice? He thought he must be imagining things. No one was ever proud to introduce him.

"Greg, this Tom Molloy," she completed the introduction.

Tom offered his hand and House took it. Tom's grip was firm but not crushing. House looked at him. Tom was short, about five-foot-seven. He was bald, with a halo of gray hair around the sides of his head. He had bright blue eyes, in contrast to his olive complexion. He was built very solidly, with a broad chest for his size and a trim waist. His arms and legs appeared to be quite muscular. Ann said he had been a runner for years, and he was certainly built like it.

House's mind flashed back to his days running, in high school, college, med school, through his thirties, and even the short period when the ketamine had worked. House had loved being athletic and he had planned to keep running until his eighties, if he lived that long. It was all taken away by the infarction and the surgery.

He felt the briefest twinge of envy towards Tom. House pushed it away. This person was important to Ann, and he wasn't going to screw this up by resenting a guy who had nothing to do with his current, sorry physical state. Ann would probably get tired of dealing with a cripple eventually, not to mention House's pain, but at least she was sticking around for now. It was all he dared hope for.

"So, you're the Big Kahuna?" Tom asked.

"What?" House asked, stalling for time. Ordinarily, if presented with a question like that, House would have come back with a witty, crude joke about the size of his manhood. But he didn't know Tom, and he actually wanted to make a, well, if not good, at least a not-terrible impression. Damn, this was going to be awkward.

Ann saw House's discomfort. "Can you excuse us for a minute?" Ann asked Tom as she ushered House into the hall leading to her bedroom.

"Listen," Ann advised. "Don't over-think this. The man has an unerring ability to identify bullshit, and if you try to snow him, you'll fail. Just be yourself. You're amazing and he'll like you."

House wasn't sure how likeable he was, but he did understand about the cut-through-the-crap skills. John had been like that, too. God, was this a military thing? Did they all get special training in bullshit detection? He just hoped this guy wasn't too much like John, or they'd never get along.

House nodded his acknowledgement of what she said and they returned to the kitchen. Ann went back to preparing dinner.

"Sorry." Tom said. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just been a while since I met anyone who was . . . important to Annie. I'm out of practice."

"Well, the only other significant relationship I had was with a woman whose parents died before we met. And, I hated my father's guts, so I have no experience in sucking up to familial male authority figures."

"My father was a pain in the ass, and I never got along with him, either," Tom responded.

"I loved my dad," Ann interjected.

"But not your mom," Tom noted.

"I don't hate her," Ann conceded. "I'm just not very close to her."

"Why not?" House asked. Of course, he was curious, but he also jumped at the chance to take the spotlight off himself.

"It's a long story," Ann stated. "I'll tell you later."

"The short version is that Annie always got along better with her father, and Joe, Annie's brother, was her mom's favorite. No accounting for taste, I guess," Tom noted.

"My brother's an okay guy," Ann insisted.

"You never even mentioned you had a brother," House interjected.

"He's not a big part of my life," Ann stated. "He's not local."

"He lives in South Carolina, not Anarctica," Tom argued. "Can you imagine, he didn't come once to support her through the trial proceedings and he never even came to see her when she was in the hospital after the attack!"

"He has a job," Ann said. "I'm sure he can't just leave whenever he wants to."

"He's a government bureaucrat!" Tom exclaimed. "They get, what six weeks vacation a year? He could have used a few measly days to make sure his sister wasn't dead or mutilated!"

"I'm sure my sister-in-law didn't want him to," Ann countered. "She probably didn't want to have to take care of my mom all by herself."

"Your mom is what, in her mid-sixties?" Tom asked "She's healthy, mentally sharp, takes care of her own finances and she even drives her own car. How much care does she need?"

House was fascinated by the exchange he was witnessing. Even though Tom wasn't Ann's biological father, it seemed as though righteous indignation ran in the "family." And maybe it was biology. Tom could have been a good friend of Ann's dad because they had similar personalities.

Apparently, Ann picked up on it, too. She turned to House, "God, is this what it feels like when I get up in arms about your friends treating you badly? I have to stop it. Right now."

"What?" Tom asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," Ann assured him. "Dinner's ready."

They served themselves the chicken piccata, garlic broccoli and rice from the stove and sat at the small table in the kitchen. House looked out over the back yard as Ann and Tom caught up, talking about Tom's family and their mutual acquaintances. It was similar to the time he had spent in the hospital cafeteria when he first met Bob. They talked about people House didn't know, but House didn't feel excluded or like an outsider. How very different this was from the rest of House's life.

After they had finished dinner and cleaned up, Tom begged off an invitation from Ann for a drink in the living room. He said now that he was "of a certain age" he could no longer drink and be able to run the next day. He'd been forced to make a choice and he'd chosen running, which made him happier, most days.

Tom went to bed. Ann showed House where his guitars were in her music room, the location of his books on her shelf, and where his clothes and sneakers were in her dresser and closet.

Before long, they were getting ready for bed and the requisite shedding of clothing began. They found themselves lying naked in bed with their arms around each other, talking about one of their favorite topics.

"You're not at all uncomfortable about having sex under the same roof as someone you love like a father?" House asked.

"I thought you weren't a fan of psychoanalysis. Are you going Freudian on me with some Electra thing?"

"Actually, I thought it was more of an incest taboo, but whatever. So, it doesn't bother you?"

"Hell, no! If I can have sex after having been anally and orally assaulted by three strangers, I don't think I have much of a problem knowing that someone who cares about me is on the other side my home with two closed doors between us."

"Can I ask you something else?" House knew he should have just kept his mouth shut since he received the answer he wanted, but sometimes his need to know was even stronger than his need for sex. "A lot of women who are raped have a very hard time with their sexuality afterwards. You seem to be okay. Why?"

"Well, I think it helps that I wasn't raped vaginally, so intercourse has no bad associations for me. Also, it's been five years . . . "

"Just the passing of time has helped you?" House had never believed that stupid cliché about time healing all wounds, and he was surprised that Ann would.

"Let me finish, please. It's been five years, so that's given me a lot of time for therapy. _That's_ what helped me."

"Oh."

"Can I ask you something? Are you still in therapy?"

"I was until very recently. I got kind of pissed at my shrink and I told him I wasn't going back."

"What made you mad?"

House really didn't want to discuss Nolan's conclusion that House loved Cuddy and was resentful that she was with Lucas. He wasn't sure exactly what his feelings were for Ann, since they'd been together for less than two weeks. He did know he liked her. A lot. He wasn't sure beyond that, other than he knew there was _something_. He certainly thought there was potential for . . . more.

It really didn't matter precisely where he and Ann were right now, anyway. He figured that if he were "in love" with Cuddy, there was no way he'd even be interested in Ann at all. So, Nolan was wrong about that. Still, he didn't want to bring up even his alleged feelings for Cuddy in front of Ann. It was just too much of a minefield - there were too many ways for it to make Ann feel angry or crappy.

So, he gave her the other reason.

"I told him I'd been in therapy for a year, and my goal was to become happy. I did everything he suggested – stay off the Vicodin, try to be a better person, and it wasn't working. I told him he was a quack and left."

"Wow!"

"What?"

"I'm just surprised - that's really a linear way of thinking. If A, then B. I suppose that's the logical scientist in you, wanting things to be that clear-cut and provable."

"But life isn't like that?"

"Not that I've observed. Certainly not where mental health and emotions are concerned."

"That's why I hate emotions."

"Even the good ones, like the feeling you get when you're snuggling up under the covers against your favorite body, snowed in on a cold winter night?"

"Not something I've experienced for a while . . . "

"Me, either. But, I'm looking forward to it."

"I think I am, too."

"So, maybe you should go back to your shrink and tell him what he told you to do might have worked, after all."

"Aw, screw him. Or, better yet, how about me screwing you? "

Ann smiled. "Before I forget, I wanted to let you know I started on the pill on Tuesday, so we only have about three weeks to go."

"Why didn't you go on Monday?"

"_Someone_ is in a hurry. Tuesday was the first appointment they had in the OB/Gyn department at the hospital, and I got that because of a cancellation. I did try on Monday, by the way. I left the hospital early and drove by Planned Parenthood. There were a bunch of protesters picketing outside and I didn't want to deal with it. The last thing I need is to have my picture taken going in there and then my photo shows up on some wing-nut website as a woman 'killing her baby.' "

"Wise move to avoid that."

"The whole thing infuriates me, anyway. These idiots are out protesting the one organization that's probably done more to prevent unwanted pregnancies, hence abortions, than any other by making birth control available to so many women for so many years. I'd be more impressed with their commitment to 'life' if they were doing the same thing. For all their protests and political activities, none of these people has prevented one abortion. They'd be better off spending their time standing on street corners handing out condoms than whatever they're doing now. Sorry, I didn't mean to get on my soapbox."

"No problem. Just something else we agree on. Three weeks, huh? Speaking of condoms, I won't need to get the large, economy size pack."

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether we're going to continue just having sex on the weekends, or if you'd like one or more mid-week encounters."

"My philosophy is less is _not_ more. Less is actually _less_."

"There's some linear thinking I can agree with."

"That's settled. How about we get things rolling now?"

Ann smiled. "A whole week is way too long to go without seeing you, at least for me."

"Same here." House leaned in and began to give her very soft kisses, almost around the edges of her mouth rather than a real lip lock. From the sighs he was getting in response, he knew he was having the desired effect, so he continued.

After a few minutes, Ann couldn't take it anymore and she pulled him in for some more intense kissing as she plunged her tongue into his mouth. It was House's turn to react as he began to make soft noises.

After several minutes, they took a breath and rested their foreheads together. House's hand found its way down to her breast and he gave it a good, hard squeeze. He felt Ann pull back.

"What?"

"I hope this won't be a problem, but I have very sensitive breasts. I don't like having them squeezed. And I really dislike having my nipples pinched, pulled or sucked on too roughly."

"Did they hurt you there when they raped you?"

"Yes, but it was a thing before that. My ex and I were always fighting about it. I'd tell him it hurt and he'd dismiss it, telling me I was hyper-sensitive or that I should toughen up. After a while, it wasn't even that he was causing me physical pain, it was that he was totally disregarding my feelings."

"My dad used to tell me to toughen up all the time, especially when he was beating me. You're right, the pain sucks and the fact that someone who is supposed to love you treats your feelings like they don't matter sucks even worse."

They were silent for a moment. "I hope that didn't put a damper on things," Ann commented.

"I have a beautiful, naked woman lying next to me in bed that I've wanted all week long. I think I can get back into it pretty easily." House began kissing her again, and this time, when he reached for her breasts, he caressed them gently. He brought the tips of his fingers lightly over her nipples, almost tickling them, and she shivered and moaned into his mouth.

He moved his head down to her breasts and began to kiss them softly. Ann arched her back as he gently took one of her nipples into his mouth and licked it tenderly, and then did the same thing with the other one.

"Ummm," she sighed. She couldn't put into words at that moment how happy she was that she had finally found someone who understood. She used her hands to show him, caressing some of his most tender spots - his neck, his armpits, the inside of his arms, and his hip bones. Could he feel how much emotion was behind her touch, she wondered?

She got her answer when he asked her in a ragged breath, "Don't do this to me again, please."

"You need it. And I need to do it even more," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back in response, "I just . . . "

They paused and rested their foreheads together again.

"Make love to me," Ann murmured.

House reached for Ann's center and found she was ready for him. He slipped a condom on and began to push himself in and out of her. They came together tenderly rather than with speed or force. They took their time, savoring the closeness and the feel of each other's bodies.

Their orgasms came on slowly and lasted, with wave after wave enveloping them.

They found words unnecessary as they held each other and fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

On Saturday morning, after Tom went for a run and they had a large breakfast, House, Ann and Tom headed over to Wilson's condo to retrieve House's things. They had just arrived, put the boxes together and were starting to pack things up when Ann received a page from her company.

"I have to go in to the hospital for a while," she informed them as she ended the call.

"Wait a minute," Tom said, "He's the doctor. How come you're getting the page?"

"I don't have that kind of practice," House informed him, "Or, at least I try not to."

"Who works on a Saturday?" Tom asked.

"They do in Bangalore," Ann replied. "Things always go wrong with a major software installation, some of which can't be dealt with remotely. I have to go in and figure out what's going on and fix it, so we don't get behind schedule. I'll try to keep this brief, but I can't promise anything."

She kissed House and Tom goodbye and left.

Since House didn't know Tom at all, it felt very strange being with him without Ann. Then the thought occurred to him that because Tom knew her so well, it would be an opportunity to find out some things about her.

Of course, it wasn't like he could just grill Tom. Tom would probably tell House to go to hell if House tried, and House certainly didn't want Ann to think he was sneaking around behind her back, even though he actually was. In any case, House had spent years perfecting the ability to subtly gain information without anyone realizing it was being done. It would have been a great disservice not to use those well-honed skills.

House thought that if he got Tom to talk about himself, Tom would wind up talking about Ann, while not realizing he was doing it.

"So," House began, "Ann told me you were a friend of her father's."

"We knew each other in high school, but we weren't close then. We really bonded after we came back from Vietnam. That was a war you couldn't talk about with anybody except someone else who'd been there."

"I remember hearing that Vietnam veterans got a lot of abuse from the public when they came home. At least my dad used to complain about it all the time."

"No offense to your dad, but that was largely a myth. There were no actual incidents of people calling vets baby-killers or spitting on them, despite the media reports. Of course, the war was fought based on a lie, and the lying about the war has only become worse over the years."

House sensed the conversation was about to get political, and that was unlikely to lead to any insights about Ann. But maybe getting some insight into what Tom thought would indirectly tell House something about Ann, since Ann obviously loved and respected Tom. At least it wouldn't be boring.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the first lie, or, at least, misconception, was that the war was about whether Communism or Capitalism would succeed, or that it was a proxy war between the Soviet Union and the U.S. We were so caught up in the Cold War mentality that we just couldn't, or wouldn't see the war for what it was – a war of national liberation. The Vietnamese had fought for hundreds of years to get the Chinese out of their country and a hundred years to get rid of the French. When we sent all those soldiers in there, we were simply the latest army of occupation."

Tom paused as he went to get some tape for one of the boxes he was packing.

"If we just hadn't had those ideological blinders on, we could have seen that no amount of troops or bombs could have subdued the Vietnamese because they were fighting for their national identity. We wouldn't have lost almost 60,000 and had over 150,000 wounded for no good reason. That's why it bugs the crap out of me today when these right-wing types get on TV and bloviate about how we could have won the war if we just tried harder. We never would have 'won' that war, and it's pure deception to tell anyone otherwise."

House noticed how excited Tom had become, and in contrast to the seriousness of the subject, how amusing it was that his Brooklyn accent was actually getting stronger.

"Of course, the people who yell the loudest about it are the people who either weren't alive when it was happening, and don't know shit about it, or are the people who were around at the time but wouldn't have anything to do with it. I still get pissed at that presidential campaign and it was six years ago. They attacked a guy who actually earned medals as unpatriotic, when their guy got his rich daddy to pull strings to get him into a cushy spot in the National Guard, and then he went AWOL on drunken binges, like it was some fraternity party! The war protesters and conscientious objectors were braver and more principled than that, forget about the poor slobs who actually had to fight."

House was surprised and pleased at Tom's opinions about the war. House was a kid when it was going on, and a lot of his opposition to the war was really just his antagonism toward anything John supported. It was actually good to find out he'd been right all along.

"My Dad was career military, so you can imagine he didn't think the protesters were principled."

"Yeah, I ran into those types, too. I actually wound up feeling sorry for the career guys."

"Why?"

"Well, we draftees could bitch and moan about the stupidity of things because we were there against our will. The enlistees couldn't do that. They had to at least pretend they thought the war was a good thing. That meant they were either idiots, or they were hypocrites. There was a small group that actually convinced themselves that, despite what was happening in front of their own eyes, the war was a righteous fight. Those guys were the scariest, and ultimately, the saddest of all."

John had been one of those guys who had managed to delude himself into thinking the war was a worthy cause. House already knew he was scary. He wasn't sure if John was sad. But it certainly explained his over-the-top hostility toward House when he expressed a dissenting opinion. If John had doubts, even in the back of his mind, the last thing he probably wanted to hear was some smart-mouthed (and intelligent) kid he didn't like anyway telling him he was wrong. No wonder House was beaten so many times and with such force for criticizing the war.

House's reaction as an adult had been to spend most of his professional life not only questioning every assumption, but also teaching everyone who worked for him to do the same. Yes, it made him a royal pain in the ass, but it also made him a good doctor most days, and, on some days, a great one.

"You still here?" Tom asked, pulling House out of his reverie.

"Yeah," House acknowledged.

"Let me guess," Tom ventured, "Your dad was one of those scary, sad guys."

"Something like that."

"And let me also guess that you constantly reminded him of the folly of the war."

"And I had the welts to prove it."

"Poor bastard."

"You feel sorry for my dad?"

"Hell, no. I feel for you."

House was about to protest that no one was allowed to feel pity for him when he noticed that Tom hadn't used the word "sorry." "You do?"

"Yeah," Tom replied. "My dad never really gave a crap about me. He loved my mom, and I think that was about his limit. So, my sister and I were just kind of there. And he drove me crazy after my mom died. But I can't imagine trying to deal with a guy who was actively hostile. Although my Dad did have that impressive Irish temper. I inherited that from him."

"What did you get from your mom?"

"She was Sicilian, so, my long fuse and my ability to enact revenge. Just so you know, I won't be happy if you hurt Annie. And you don't want me to be unhappy with you."

Even though House was easily a head taller than Tom, he had no doubt Tom could cause some serious damage to him if Tom wanted to, especially since House couldn't run away.

House also knew there was no point in trying to bullshit Tom, so he gave him as honest a response as he could. "I can't guarantee that Ann and I will live happily ever after, with no problems. In fact, if I had to guarantee anything, it would be the opposite. I have too many issues for it not to affect us. I will promise to do what I think is best for her, even if it's not what she wants. And that may hurt her."

"All I know is what I see. She's already got it bad for you. I never saw her like this before, even when she was getting married. Just be good to her."

"I'm not known for that. If anything, I'm a 'tough love' kind of person."

"She's been through hell. First her father, then the divorce, then the attack. I don't know if she falls in love with you and you hurt her, that she'll ever be able to love anyone else. And that would be a horrible waste of a beautiful, intelligent, passionate woman."

"I'm not sure I'm worthy of that. Of her."

"She obviously thinks you are. And I trust her judgment. Most of the time."

"Can I ask you something? She told me she got married to someone she didn't really love as a reaction to her father's death. What happened? Was it unexpected? Or was it slow and painful?"

"It was a suicide."

"Shit!"

"Yeah. That's why I practically forced her to go to a doctor when she had PTSD after the attack. No way in hell was I going to lose someone else to that."

"So, it was the PTSD that made him do it?"

"I'm not a shrink, but I think that's why. I have PTSD, but I'm lucky because it gets triggered by certain things. If I avoid those things, I don't have problems. It would just come on him, for no reason. After years trying to live with that, he just couldn't take it any more."

"I guess I wouldn't characterize anyone who has PTSD as 'lucky.' "

"You're in chronic pain, right? There are days when it's bad, and there are days when it's _bad_."

"Yeah."

"Well, mine is just bad. His was _bad_."

House was silent for several moments. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it was a whole series of things, including confusion. He felt for Ann, losing her father to demons that no one could get rid of, or no one was allowed to try to get rid of. Was that what Wilson, Cuddy and his team felt about him when he was spiraling out of control? Did that explain their skepticism or inability to deal with him when he tried to get better?

And what about his own father? Had some of these same demons been a part of John's life? And was it even harder for John because he had to pretend everything was okay and what had damaged him was a noble thing?

House didn't know if he could deal with this at all, let alone come to terms with it. Tom sensed what was going on.

"All this is a lot to absorb," Tom observed. "It's been over forty years and I still haven't. And I don't have all that father-child shit to deal with."

"No, you have your own father-child shit."

"I guess."

"You have a son, right?"

"Yes. He's in his twenties."

"I'm assuming he's okay."

"Are you kidding? He's great."

"Do you treat him the same way your father treated you?"

"Hell, no! I love him."

"So, it's possible to break the cycle, then?"

"I think I did, and I'm hardly remarkable."

"I think Ann would disagree with that."

"Disagree with what?" Ann asked as she entered the bedroom. She had fixed the problem at the hospital and returned to help with moving House's stuff.

She saw the uncomfortable looks on both their faces. She assumed they wouldn't tell her. Maybe she could get one of them to fess up later.

She looked around for boxes and things to pack, and didn't see anything. "So, I missed the packing and arrived for the heavy lifting? I always did have bad timing."

They loaded the boxes containing all the things from House's bedroom and bathroom in House's car and Ann's car. Ann insisted they strip the bed, clean the bathroom and vacuum House's room, so things would be neat. House wasn't sure he understood why; Ann said something about "taking the high road." All House knew was that he would regret not seeing Wilson's face when he came home Sunday night to find House's room empty and House gone.

Tom waited outside while House and Ann went back to check one last time for things House might have left.

"Is there anything of yours in the kitchen?" Ann questioned as they looked around.

"I bought that food processor, but I'm going to let Wilson keep it. The kitchen in my apartment doesn't have enough counter space for it."

"I have smallish food processor, if you ever want to use it. I don't use it myself because it's too much of a pain to clean. I find all I need is an immersion blender and a knife. Hey, what about the organ? Wilson and Sam will never use it."

"Wilson can sell it."

"And, in the meantime, it will remind him of how he used to care about you and he pushed you out."

"Ouch! I hadn't thought about that, but you're right. And let me just add that with that well-developed ability to induce guilt, you're going to make someone a fine mother some day."

"Thanks. I think I would like to be a mom at some point, if for no other reason but to get it right with a daughter of my own. Of course, I'd probably wind up with sons. What about you? Do you want to have kids?"

"With all the chemicals I've put in my body over the years, I don't know that I could have healthy kids. And given the example I had, I'm not sure I wouldn't be terrible at it. In any case, who wants a cripple for a father?"

"So, the answer is 'no.' "

"It always was before. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Really? Why the change?"

"Not a why, so much as a 'who.' "

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What did I do?"

"You make me think . . . shit, this is going to sound ridiculous when I say it out loud."

"Try it."

"You make me think that . . . things are possible that . . . I didn't think would ever happen for me. See, doesn't that sound idiotic?"

"No," Ann said quietly, her voice husky. "Because you have the same effect on me."

It was already an emotional thing for House to leave the apartment. He realized that once he left today, he and Wilson would most likely never live under the same roof again. He was positive that Wilson and Sam wouldn't stay together, but he was also positive that he would not take Wilson in like he had when Wilson broke up with Julie. Too much had changed between them for House to even imagine that happening. So, this was definitely a door closing on something that had been very important in his life.

House looked into Ann's eyes, seeing the tears beginning to pool there. He was leaving this behind, but he was also looking at the possibility of something more for himself. Something that didn't involve waiting around for someone else to make time for him or to deem him worthy of attention. It was a chance for a life. Not an easy life, or a simple life, but a real life.

By now, the tears were streaming down Ann's cheeks and House could no longer keep himself away from her. He limped across the room and put his arms around her. She slid her arms around his waist and sighed into his chest.

House thought for a minute. The condo had first entered his life as a means for Cuddy to let House know she had moved on with Lucas. It was certainly a cruel way to do it, but, there it was. It had also become the place where Wilson had let House know he was moving on, too, by bringing Sam there. Another weak and cruel thing, but, again, it was what Wilson had done.

Now, it had become the place where House first truly acknowledged the possibility of his own chance for happiness. It meant him moving on from two people he had known for years, and that saddened him, but it also meant his being treated with dignity and respect for the first time in a very long time.

House guessed this was what Nolan had meant when he talked about closure. It was a mix of regret and anticipation, of pain and of potential. All in all, not a bad thing.

Ann had stopped crying.

"It's time to go," House said softly, reaching down to kiss Ann on the head and using his thumb to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Ann murmured.

They walked out together with their arms around each other.

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun dunn! House and Ann said they love each other! And House said it first! I hope this wasn't too soon or OOC. Please let me know when you review. BTW, if you've never heard the word "bloviate" before, google HL Menken.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

After a break for lunch, Saturday afternoon found Tom, Ann and House unpacking his things at House's apartment. Despite Ann's complaints about heavy lifting, other than the amplifier, House didn't have a lot of big or heavy things, like furniture, to move. It was mostly clothes and only a few books.

House remembered moving in his college and med school days. Even without a lot of furniture it was still grueling, mostly because of House's extensive record collection. He never figured out how something as light as vinyl could wind up weighing so much. And, in those days, he and his friends were a lot younger and stronger. House said a silent thank you to Steve Jobs as he plugged in his docking station and put his I-pod in it to charge.

They were all pretty worn out when they got back to Ann's place around dinner time. House suggested they get take out. He told himself that as a selfish bastard, it was because he didn't want Ann too tired for sex that night, certainly not because he was concerned about her. It didn't matter - she wouldn't go along with it anyway.

There was no way she was going to give Tom anything but a home-cooked meal. She had planned that they might be busy all day and had thawed some meatballs and sauce she had made earlier in the week. House volunteered to chop the vegetables for the salad while Ann cooked the pasta and heated the sauce.

The sauce was made according to a recipe Tom had given Ann, based on the way his mother had made it. Since it was the summer, Ann had been able to get fresh, locally grown tomatoes at the farmer's market. As a result of both these things, the sauce was easily the best House had ever tasted. He thought about dropping hints that Ann should make and freeze more of it, until he heard that was her plan. He only hoped the local tomato-growing season lasted well into the fall.

The day had been both physically and emotionally tiring for the three of them. Ann wanted to play some music for Tom and he agreed, but only if she kept it short. She played two Bach pieces for the harpsichord, and they went off in their respective directions for bed.

The sex that night was similar to the night before. It was slow and tender and deeply emotional. House had forgotten how good it felt to be with someone you loved and who loved you. It was so intense that he couldn't fall asleep afterwards. He lay in bed for two hours holding a sleeping Ann. He finally gave up and decided to get up for a while.

Had he been in his apartment, he would have played his piano. Although it was a keyboard, he didn't think he could really play Ann's harpsichord. The amplifier for his electric guitars was at his apartment. They would have been too loud, in any case. And, thanks to Sam, House had no acoustic guitar to play, either. He'd have to get a new one when he had the chance.

House made his way to the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, but he thought he might grab a beer or something. He was surprised to see Tom there already, getting a glass of ice water.

"Insomnia's a bitch, isn't it?" Tom asked rhetorically.

"Today was just . . . " House hesitated. "I can't seem to settle down."

"All that talk about the war didn't help me very much, either."

"Sorry."

"At least I hope it helped you a little."

"It did. It gave me more insight into why my dad couldn't stand me."

"More?"

"He wasn't my biological father."

"Oh. Wow . . . that's . . . wow."

"Yeah."

"How . . . ?"

"I don't know any of the circumstances, other than I figured out my dad was stationed elsewhere when I was conceived. I confirmed it with DNA testing from a sample I got at his funeral."

"Again, wow. Does Ann know about any of this?"

"I haven't told her yet, but I will. Why? Do you think she'll run in the opposite direction when she finds out?"

"Maybe if she'd come from the perfect family, but she didn't. That, and she's one of the most compassionate people I've ever known. She won't run away. If anything, it will make her love and respect you even more."

Upon hearing that, House's heart felt a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time, maybe ever. He decided he really didn't want to get all emotional in front of Tom, so he changed the subject. "You seemed to really like the music Ann played for you tonight."

"I'm not that familiar with what she played, but it was great."

"You're not a big fan of baroque music?"

"Is that what it was? No, I guess I don't care for it. I'm more into classic rock, myself. Hendrix and Clapton were my time. I remember hearing them when I was seventeen and thinking anything was possible. No other music can ever do that for me."

"If you don't like that kind of music, then why did you say it was great?"

"She glows when she plays those instruments or sings. I'd listen to hours of stuff I hated just to see her happy like that."

House didn't know how to respond. He had noticed how happy Ann was when she was playing music, and it was something that he identified with and loved about her, too.

And, what Tom had said was startling. House never had a father or even a father figure would love him enough to do that. Damn, so much for changing the subject away from something emotional.

"I have to go back to bed now," House said in a rough voice.

"It's okay. I get how tough all this man-stuff is to talk about, Greg."

The lump that had been forming in House's throat suddenly became huge. He turned away abruptly and headed down the hall to the bedroom. He went it into the adjoining bathroom, closed the door and sat down on the toilet seat. He tried as hard as he could to swallow down the lump, but it just wouldn't go away. Although it was the last thing he wanted, the tears began to slip down his cheeks.

He thought he had at least been quiet as the emotion came out of him, but he must have made some noise because Ann came in. When she saw his face, she simply walked over to him, closed her arms around him and buried his face in her chest. He felt her fingers gently moving through his hair.

House wasn't sure how long he had been crying when he calmed down. Before he even knew what was happening, he felt Ann washing his face with a washcloth soaked in warm water.

"Come back to bed when you're ready," she said softly as she tossed the washcloth in the bathtub and went back into the bedroom.

House sat there for a few more minutes and composed himself. The pain in his leg was increasing from sitting on the toilet seat. He got up and took some ibuprofen with a glass of water before he went back into the bedroom.

He climbed into bed and Ann moved over towards him and put her arms around him.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. He waited for the inevitable questions about why he was crying, what he was feeling, and why it was wrong to feel that way.

Instead, there was just silence. Not a tense silence, but a relaxed, contented one.

House was puzzled. "Don't you want to know why I was crying?"

"Since they didn't look like tears of joy, I assume you were sad about something."

"Don't you want to know what?"

"Doesn't matter. You were sad, and you needed comfort, and I love you, so I gave it to you. That's all I need to know."

House felt that warmth again. He'd known her less than two weeks, and he already loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone, not that that was saying much, he supposed. Still, he wanted this and he wanted this with her. Was this what happy felt like?

Sleep finally overtook both of them.

Tom left on Sunday at noon, and House spent his afternoon doing his laundry while Ann cleaned. They took a couple of breaks for nookie.

After take-out Chinese that House insisted they order because he had a craving for it, she settled down to do a little work on her laptop while he used her PC to find the website where he had ordered the guitar three years ago.

It was a good sign that the site was still in business. House checked things out to see if there was something different that he wanted. It being an acoustic guitar, there really wasn't anything new, so he decided to get the same guitar he had ordered previously.

When he got to where he needed to provide the shipping information, he hesitated. He decided to ask Ann a favor.

"I'm ordering a new acoustic guitar. Do you mind if I have it sent here?"

"It probably would be safer in plain site on my front porch than in the closed foyer of your apartment building, so go ahead."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Speaking of guitars, if you ever want to use your electric ones, you'll either need to bring them back to your apartment or bring the amp here."

"Wouldn't your neighbors in quiet suburbia get pissed off if I started blasting Van Halen?"

"As long as it's between nine a.m. and nine p.m., and you don't have the volume cranked up to eleven, I don't think it will be an issue."

House smiled slightly at the "This Is Spinal Tap" reference. "That's one of my favorite movies."

"Somehow I just knew," Ann responded. "And you don't need to keep foil in your pants."

That comment inspired both of them to quickly finish up what they were doing and to engage in some seriously sweaty activity on the couch in the living room, after which they retired to bed for the night.

Once again, thanks to Ann, House was more or less on time that Monday morning. He was sitting in his office, surfing the web. Cuddy had called him and said she would be up shortly to bring him the file for their latest case. Wilson appeared at the door and came in.

"You moved out this weekend when we were away," Wilson stated.

"You've already won the world title for Mr. Blatantly Obvious for 2006 through 2009. Going for a record five consecutive titles in 2010?"

"House . . . "

"Wilson, you told me to go. So, how can my leaving possibly be a problem for you?"

"It isn't. I mean, I wish you didn't have to, but . . . Anyway, it was the way you left that I have a problem with. You came in and took things when I wasn't there, like, like a thief in the night!"

"Wilson, I think you don't understand the concept of theft. Let me explain it to you, slowly. You. Can't. Steal. Your. Own. Stuff."

"You've been staying at your old apartment, anyway. There was no rush about getting your things out. It could have waited until I got back to help you."

"First of all, I had all the help I needed _without you_. Second, there was a rush."

"Who helped you? Ann and Bob?"

"Bob wasn't here this weekend. It was Ann and Tom."

"Who the hell is Tom?"

"He's a friend of ours."

"Ours?"

"Yeah. He was a friend of Ann's and I spent the weekend winning him over."

"Wow, a House charm offensive. Too bad I missed that."

"Aren't you the one always telling me to meet new people and make friends? Well, I did."

"Wait a minute. You said there was a rush. What do you mean?"

"I needed to get my stuff out of there. I had to protect it."

"Protect it? From whom? I wasn't going to do anything to your stuff."

"I wasn't worried about you, Wilson."

"Listen, I know you can't stand Sam, House, but that doesn't mean she would do anything, except in your own feverish imagination."

"Well, unlike you, I'm a good scientist who bases my conclusions on actual evidence, Wilson."

"What?"

"She broke my acoustic guitar."

"Huh?"

"I went over last Monday to get a few things that really mattered to me. It was lucky I did. She didn't have the chance to destroy my books or my sheet music, or mess with my electric guitars. Unfortunately, she put either her fist or her foot through the back of my acoustic guitar."

"She didn't! What proof do you have it was her?"

"Well, it wasn't me and it wasn't you. And nobody else but Sam lives there."

"Someone could have broken in . . . "

"A burglar who takes nothing, breaks guitars and puts them back into their cases? Again, I'd say you're struggling with understanding the concept of theft."

"What about Lucas?"

"He made his point about the condo. And, if he wanted to make another point about something else, he wouldn't stop at the guitar. And he wouldn't hide it. And he's a musician, so he wouldn't deliberately destroy a musical instrument."

"But why would Sam do it?"

"Because you told her that was my old guitar and how much it meant to me. And she hates my guts, and she's vindictive."

"I don't believe it. She just wouldn't do that."

"That's your argument? She just wouldn't do it? I'm going to have to start calling you Cleopatra because you are the queen of denial."

"You don't really have any proof, House. You're just blaming her because you don't like her."

"I've already explained that she was the only one with the opportunity and the motive to do it. What else do you require for proof? Shall I dust the guitar for prints? Shall I test for DNA evidence?"

"I don't want to talk about this any more."

"Hey, shutting down conversations is my job, not yours. Whatever happened to Mr. Let's Talk About It Until Our Eyes Bleed? I guess that's only when it's my problems, faults or screw-ups. When it's your naiveté or stupidity, we don't have to, huh?"

"Go to hell, House."

At that moment, Cuddy walked into House's office, carrying a case file.

"Wow, I'm bowled over by the wit of your retort," House bellowed after Wilson as Wilson stormed out of the office.

"Trouble with your BFF?" Cuddy asked with a sneer. "Losing another friend, House? You don't have them to spare."

House was really pissed off that his guitar had been destroyed and he was even more pissed off at the way Wilson reacted, although it wasn't unexpected that Wilson would defend Sam. Why couldn't Wilson see what a conniving bitch she really was? If Wilson didn't believe him after he found out what Sam had done, there was nothing House could do to convince him.

In any case, House just didn't feel like dealing with Cuddy's attitude on top of everything else. He decided he wasn't going to get sucked into her game today.

"As I recall," House stated, "You came to see me last fall and declared that we never meant anything to each other. At that moment, you gave up your right to comment on my personal life. If you have anything to tell me about the case, I'd like to hear it. Otherwise, leave the file and get out of my office."

Cuddy was infuriated by what House said, and it aggravated her even more that she couldn't dispute it. And she couldn't fire him because he had tenure. And she needed him to take the case because the patient was the nephew of a major donor.

She glared at him, slapped the case file on his desk, turned on her heel and left.

House picked up the file and went into the conference room.

Given the lack of soundproofing, House's team next door heard nearly every word that had passed between House and Wilson, and then House and Cuddy.

"It's not even ten a.m. yet, and you've enraged both your best friend and your boss. That must be a new record for you, House," Foreman snarked.

"Contrary to what Human Resources would want you to believe, there are no problems associated with arbitrarily firing people of color," House snarled. "Stick to your professional responsibilities, Doctor Darky."

The team began to work on the case.

Once again, the case took most of the week. House decided that having Sam, Wilson, Cuddy, and, by extension, Lucas, all mad at him wasn't the most secure situation in the world, so he had a locksmith come over to his apartment that Monday to change his locks to ones with a keypad, and secure the windows.

He decided he wasn't going to ask the landlord if he could install a security system, because he figured that the new locks were enough to keep out everyone but Lucas, and Lucas probably knew how to get around most security systems, anyway, so their was no point in paying for installation or the monthly fee.

Other than his piano and a few rare books, House didn't have much that he really valued in the apartment anyway. He figured Lucas wouldn't trash his piano, and he brought the books over to Ann's place on Tuesday, along with his amplifier.

Ann and House decided to establish a schedule for getting together. They would see each other Tuesdays and Thursdays at House's apartment, and then spend the weekends at Ann's place, simply because she had a lot of weekend visitors. They began to settle into a comfortable routine.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

It turned out that Ann wasn't having any guests the next weekend. As Augusts in New Jersey tend to be, it was brutally warm and humid, so she and House spent most of their time indoors in her air conditioning.

They needed it because their activities were rather hot. They decided to christen every room in her house, starting with the living room (not on the couch this time, for variety's sake) and working their way around to each of the three bedrooms they hadn't done it in yet, plus the bathrooms, and the laundry room. (The vibrations from the dryer were especially enjoyable.) There was a finished off portion of the basement and there was even a bed in it, although it wasn't made up, so they brought down a blanket and used that. They held off on doing it in the garage because there was no A/C. It would be something to look forward to in the fall.

They maintained their schedule of staying at House's apartment during the week. House continued to be amused as Ann received alerts on her Blackberry notifying them of the days remaining before the pill would become effective.

Since the Blackberry was paid for by her company, she had to use a code phrase. Ann had chosen, "When the rubber meets the road." It had enough of a management-school-jargon, self-help-bullshit sound to it that it could be taken for a legitimate business-related alert. (It hit the trifecta because it was also a mangled cliché.)

They were anticipating the time when they would be together the way they wanted to. House felt like it was the countdown to a very adult Christmas. And he couldn't wait for Ann to unwrap his present.

In the meantime, Ann had yet another friend visiting for the weekend. House was slightly disappointed, since he would have preferred a repeat of the activities of the previous weekend. Then again, he'd liked both Bob and Tom, so he tried to keep an open mind.

By Friday, House's case from that week had been resolved, so he was working in the clinic. He took a break for lunch to meet Ann.

He approached her table and heard what sounded unsettlingly like giggling.

"Here he is," Ann told the woman sitting next to her as they both rose to meet House.

"Danielle, this is Greg House, and Greg, this is Danielle Gray."

House put his tray down and took stock of the woman that was standing before him. She was short, and while Ann was curvaceous, Danielle was - there was no way to sugar-coat it - fat. She had long, wavy, reddish brown hair and a pretty face – high cheek bones and a square chin, with large brown eyes. Her lips weren't as full as Ann's, but they were pleasantly plump. House decided that, even though she was not to his taste, for a guy (or woman) who liked the rotund, she was definitely a catch.

Danielle put out her immaculately manicured hand, prompting House to notice that she certainly took the time to take care of some aspects of her appearance. He shook it and they sat down.

Once again, as had been the case with Bob and Tom, House decided his time was best spent listening to Ann and her friend interact, with minimal interference from him.

"Did you get the link I sent you?" Danielle inquired.

"You mean the one with Carl?"

"Yeah, wasn't that completely scary?"

"I'll say. What a hypocrite! The prick treats everyone who works for him like shit, and then goes out and plays in a country band to raise money for charity on the weekends. The testimonials to him from his 'bandmates' were sickening, too."

"It sounded like it was a mutual admiration society. I wonder if those other people are assholes to their employees, too."

"I'm just glad I don't work for the son-of-a-bitch any more. Danielle and I always liked working with each other, but we really bonded when we reported ethics violations and he punished us by giving us bad appraisals," Ann informed House.

"Before that, we'd both had excellent performance reviews. And he did it to both of us in the same year," Danielle explained. "You'd think someone from the Human Resources department would have connected the dots, but they didn't, or, at least, no one called him on it."

"I understand that HR departments are there to protect the company and not the employees, in spite of whatever bullshit they spew," Ann stated. "But the crap he was pulling could have hurt the company if either of us decided to sue."

"It was probably easier for them to just hope we were afraid for our jobs and wouldn't cause a fuss. In any case, integrity all around," Danielle observed sarcastically.

All this talk about bosses from hell had House thinking of Cuddy, and all the stuff she had pulled on him in the last couple of years. He knew he was hardly a model employee, but, still, as a boss, she should not have been allowed to do to him what she did, at least with no consequences.

House didn't know what Ann and Danielle's boss had done to make them believe he was shitty, but House was willing to bet that it didn't involve laxatives, forcing a handicapped employee to walk up four flights of stairs, cane theft, or trip wires. Well, it would catch up to Cuddy sooner or later, House supposed.

And House didn't have to wonder how Ann would react if she found out what Cuddy had done. That righteous indignation was would be blazing. Over the past few weeks, House had slowly gone from thinking it was uncomfortable having someone get that upset on his behalf to thinking it was kind of sexy, especially seeing Ann all angry and fired up. Maybe he'd tell her all about what Cuddy did when they were alone.

Lunch was winding down and Ann had to return to work. House had clinic duty, but he said Danielle could hang out in his office if she wanted to. Ann brought her up to the fourth floor. House must not have remembered his office was locked, and Ann didn't have a key. The conference room was open.

"Hi, Doctor Chase," Ann greeted the sole occupant of the room. "I know Greg is down in the clinic, but where is everyone else?"

"Taub is on vacation this week," Chase told her, "Thirteen called in sick this morning, and Foreman left early because his dad is in town this weekend."

"Oh," she responded. "Do you mind if I park a friend of mine here for the afternoon?"

O-_kay_," Chase replied. He wasn't exactly brimming with enthusiasm. Ann introduced them. She needed to finish up some things, so she couldn't stay. She said she would be by to get Danielle later and she headed to the elevators.

"So, Doctor Chase, is it?" Danielle asked.

"You can call me Robert," Chase stated listlessly. He really had no interest in talking to this woman. It was a waste of time since, given her shape, there was no way he would ever be friends with her. That study he'd read about that demonstrated being friends with someone who was fat tended to make you fat had merely confirmed his suspicions that fat people were harmful to themselves and everyone they encountered.

"Robert, what is your medical specialty?"

"I'm an intensivist."

"What's that?"

"Someone who provides support for critically ill patients."

"Oh. Then how come you're not in the ICU?"

"Well, I haven't really used my specialty for a few years. I worked for House for about four years after I came to the US, and then I worked in the surgical department for a couple of years, and last fall, I started working for House again."

"You must really like working for him if you came back."

"Let's just say the work is interesting."

"You mentioned when you came to the US you worked for him. You're from Australia, right?"

"How did you know? Most Americans can't tell one accent from another."

"My grandmother was an English war bride. She taught me how to recognize most of the accents from the British Isles. Since you don't sound like any of those, I knew it was either New Zealand or Australia. Fifty-fifty shot, and I guessed right."

Chase was impressed. At least she wasn't stupid, even if she wasn't very attractive. He decided that it wouldn't hurt him to spend one afternoon with her, amusing himself by making conversation with her. It was better than reading another medical journal.

"So, where are you from?"

"I was born in upstate New York, which was where I was working when I met Ann. We both quit the company we were working for at about the same time. She got a job in California and I took a job in Texas. I'm not fond of the heat, so you can imagine that didn't work out so well. Right now, I'm looking for work in a climate further north, although it doesn't have to be back home in New York. It would be great to be here with Ann. We always worked really well together and I've missed her."

That was probably a longer answer than Chase expected, but at least it wasn't boring.

"But if her company is in California, wouldn't you have to work there?"

"That's the beauty of computers. You can work almost anywhere. And I think they just won several contracts to computerize patient files in a few of the hospitals here. I'm hoping that their existing employees won't want to move to New Jersey and they'll need to hire someone, namely me."

"Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks."

There was a pause as Chase tried to think of something to keep the conversation going. When it was someone he planned to ask out, what did he usually say? Sadly enough, other than that speed dating thing where he was trying to screw up, he hadn't asked anyone out on a date since the winter he and Cameron had started sleeping together over three years ago.

He was drawing a blank. He did pretty well with interviewing the patients. Maybe he could adapt the questions he would ask in a medical history to make it sound like personal questions and create conversation that way. It was worth a try.

"So, tell me about your family."

"Well, I'm single and I don't have any kids."

"What about your parents and siblings?" Chase had to bite his tongue not to ask about any medical conditions.

"Well, my parents are dead. My mom died when I was a teenager and my dad died about five years ago. I don't have any brothers or sisters. I have an aunt and a cousin in New York, but I don't see them very much. What about you?"

"I'm single and I don't have any kids. My mom died when I was a teenager and my dad died four years ago. I'm an only child, too. My stepmom is much younger than my dad, so she's still alive, not that I really consider her family."

"So, we're both alone in the world, except for our friends."

"I guess." That statement depressed Chase. He really didn't have any friends, when he thought about it. He'd had schoolmates that he got along with, but he'd never really gotten close to anyone growing up because he couldn't bring them home to find his mother passed out on the couch with an empty bottle or bottles next to her. He had a few acquaintances in the seminary, college and med school, but those connections were tenuous at best and didn't extend beyond the school year.

He hadn't had time to get close to anyone during his internship or residency. Working days at a stretch and then trying to catch up on sleep to do it all over again wasn't conducive to building relationships.

There were his co-workers here, but, other than the occasional drink outside of work with Foreman and Hadley, they didn't socialize at all. And Chase sure as hell wasn't going to tell this woman he hardly knew and was only planning to talk to for a few hours about Cameron. It was too recent and too painful.

He was positive Danielle would ask why they split up, and there was no way Chase was going to get into Cameron and her eccentricities like her never really getting over her dead husband and the sperm she saved. And then the whole Diabila thing. No, it was definitely best to steer clear of all of that.

Chase wanted to divert her attention away from him and back to herself. "What about your Aunt and your cousin?"

A smile appeared on Danielle's face. "Well, I do love them, but they're, um, how do I put this? _Interesting_."

Chase assumed he was in for some good stories, so he sat back in his chair, ready to enjoy himself. "Tell me."

"My aunt's name is Rita, and she's really my great aunt. She's very devout and she belongs to some group in the Catholic Church that's supposed to be like a religious order in that they don't get married or have relationships, but they don't have to belong to a convent. Since I'm 'fallen away' I don't know much more about it."

"It must be an American thing, because I never heard about it in the seminary in Australia."

"You studied to be a priest?"

Damn. Chase hadn't really wanted to reveal anything about himself. However, of all the things he preferred not to talk about, this had to be the least uncomfortable. "Yeah. I also 'fell away' as you put it. I went to college and then med school. Get back to Aunt Rita."

"Well, no one in the family will go to her house to see her."

"Why not?"

"She likes to save things."

"Not being wasteful isn't a bad thing."

"It is when there's so much stuff in your house there are only narrow paths to walk through. I think there is so much junk in the back of her house that she can't even open the doors to a couple of the bedrooms any more. And I know she has only a trail to get from her refrigerator to her stove to her sink."

"That seems to go beyond eccentric and into pathological. Shouldn't somebody do something?"

"I don't think we can. She pays her bills and her taxes, she has acceptable personal hygiene, and she holds down a job."

"Is she a pack-rat at work?"

"I don' know."

"Who does she work for?"

"The diocese."

"And it's not like The Church to do anything about the strange behavior of its employees."

"Precisely."

"Couldn't you try to help her?"

"She's not speaking to me."

"Why?"

"She's too upset about my excommunication."

"Your excommunication?"

"I'm divorced."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What can I say? I got married not long after my mother died. In my case, it was youth and naïveté. In his case, it was youth and a genuine lack of intelligence. Thank God we didn't have kids. The pool would have been seriously weakened by his stupidity genes."

A comment popped into Chase's head about the gene pool being improved by the absence of her fat genes, but his brain stopped it from coming out. He was enjoying this conversation too much to kill it with a thoughtless remark.

"Anything else about Aunt Rita?"

"No, that's pretty much it."

"Well, then tell me about your cousin."

"I know that you think I'm really fat."

"Um, I thought you were going to tell me about your cousin," Chase deflected.

"Well, Mary Ann is huge compared to me."

"Really?"

"And she's not the only one. In my family, I'm the skinny one," Danielle laughed as she batted her eyes theatrically, "And the pretty one." She laughed even harder.

"You are pretty," Chase observed. Where the hell did that come from? Chase had never considered any woman who was fat to be the least bit attractive. By definition, all fat chicks were ugly.

So, what made him say that? Was he just being polite? Maybe, but as he looked at her, he could see some, well, redeeming aspects to her looks. She had beautiful hair, and smooth, soft skin. And very attractive hands. She had a really nice manicure. Her fingers were a little pudgy, of course, but that just looked cute. What? Had that thought really just entered his mind? What the hell was going on?

"Um, thanks," Danielle responded awkwardly, pulling Chase back into the conversation. "Anyway, getting back to my cousin. She's so big that once she knocked down a kid with her butt."

"What?"

"She was standing in line somewhere and her son came up along side of her. She didn't know he was there, and she turned quickly and her butt hit him and knocked him down."

"Was he okay?"

"The floor was carpeted, so he didn't get hurt from the fall, and, of course, her butt is so well-padded, the force of the blow didn't hurt him, either."

"Well, that's a relief. If he'd actually gotten hurt, I can't imagine the accident report in the ER file for that."

Danielle giggled. "She would have had to lie, I'm sure, since no one would have believed it. Of course, her husband is a character."

"From what movie?"

"The Godfather, I guess. Michael Corleone. Except not as good-looking."

Chase thought Al Pacino was a brilliant actor, but the one thing you couldn't say about him was that he was handsome. "Oh. . . . "

"Yeah," Ann smiled. "He's also not the sharpest tool in the shed. You know the best part?"

"What?"

"He's a state worker, which isn't surprising, but he works in the _Education_ Department."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, he does something associated with public and school libraries, or, as he calls them, _Li-berries_."

"No way!"

"Way. He has some interesting ways of pronouncing things. Like, when he sold his porn collection so they would have money for an in-ground pool, they had some cash left over, so they decided to put in a lawn structure that he called a _gaze_-bo. And then, there are his anger management issues."

"Such as?"

"Well without large amounts of drugs that basically put him in a stupor, he can't control his temper. So, he's either enraged or drooling."

"How charming."

"Speaking of charm, he attempted to compliment me once."

"What did he say?"

"That I was acceptable as a sex partner."

"What?"

"His actual words were, 'Hey, you're okay lookin.' I'd do ya.'"

"Well, what self-respecting woman wouldn't be flattered by that?"

"Exactly."

At that moment, Ann entered the conference room. "Ready to get going?"

"Aren't you going to wait for Greg?" Danielle inquired.

"He's finishing up and he said he'd come over then," Ann responded. "We're putting some shrimp on the barby, along with steak and vegetables for dinner. Would you like to join us, Doctor Chase?"

Chase hated those Outback commercials, along with every other stupid stereotype most Americans seemed to have about Australians, but since this was his boss's girlfriend, he decided not to make an issue out of a throwaway remark. "Are you sure House would want me there?"

"Last time I checked, it was my home, which means I get to invite whomever I want," Ann informed him. "Besides, he told me that of all his employees, you're the one he probably hates the least."

"Wow," Chase said, "That almost qualifies as affection, coming from House."

"So?" Ann persisted.

Chase was hesitant because, given the people who would be there, this could look like some sort of double date. He didn't want to be involved in any situation that could, even in someone's wildest imagination, appear like he was dating a fat woman. Then again, no one else was around, and he was enjoying his conversation with Danielle, and he was curious to see how House and Ann interacted outside of work. And, sadly, it wasn't like he had any other plans. "Can I follow you?"

"Sure," Ann replied.

* * *

A/N: Before anyone flames me about alluding to Hugh Laurie and the Band From TV in such a negative way, I am NOT referring to his and their wonderful work, nor am I implying that Hugh is a bad boss. (Other than his being an Executive Producer and his directing an episode, I don't think he's in charge very much on the show. And I'd bet he's a great boss, anyway.) The person described here is based on an actual person who was my former boss, did play in a country music band for charity, and was a hypocritical prick because he treated everyone who worked for him like dirt. The work world, so enjoyable!


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

By the time they got packed up and made sure Chase was following them, it took forty-five minutes to get to Ann's house. Of course, House was already there. They found him in the kitchen slicing vegetables and putting them on skewers.

"What the hell is he doing here?" House growled as Chase stepped into the kitchen with Ann and Danielle.

"Nice to see you, too," Chase responded. He turned to Ann, "See, I told you he wouldn't be happy about this."

"For me to be 'unhappy,' " House noted caustically, "I'd actually have to give a shit. Besides, why isn't a single, young, pretty thing like you out in a bar on a Friday night, scoring left and right with the hot chicks, or guys, if you prefer?"

"Are you gay or bisexual?" Danielle asked.

"No," Chase protested. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, I agree with Greg that you are rather pretty," Danielle answered. "And most really good-looking guys play for the other team, at least part of the time."

"Well, I don't," Chase said with exasperation.

"I thought that might be part of the reason your marriage to Cameron ended," House interjected, doing his best impersonation of a bad therapist.

"You're divorced?" Danielle asked.

"Thanks, House," Chase snarled. "Yes, about six months ago."

"How long were you married?" Danielle questioned.

"About a year," Chase answered. "But we'd been separated for about five months before we divorced."

"Marriage wasn't what you were expecting, I take it?" Danielle asked rhetorically. "You probably should have gotten to know her better before you took the plunge."

"I knew her five years before we got married, and we had been dating for two years," Chase insisted, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Sorry," Danielle said. "It just sounded to me like you didn't really know each other."

"Just the passage of time doesn't equal acquiring knowledge about another person," House observed. "I've known my boss for twenty-five years, and her behavior for the last eighteen months genuinely surprised me."

"Probably because your image of her didn't include sociopath," Ann commented sarcastically.

For a change, House found himself not rushing to defend Cuddy. He wasn't sure what Chase knew about what had happened in the past year and a half, but he was pretty sure Chase was good enough at playing hospital politics that he wouldn't want to piss off either House or Cuddy, and would refrain from commenting at all.

"Why did you break up?" Danielle asked.

"I really don't want to get into it right now, okay?" Chase responded with at least aggravation, if not a little anger, in his voice.

"Sorry," Danielle said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I hope I didn't ruin the evening."

"I'm having wild, sweaty sex with your friend later tonight, so it won't spoil my mood at all," House declared.

"Okay," Danielle observed, "So tonight it's dinner, some chit-chat and maybe some music, and then you guys go and do the nasty. This is getting complicated enough that I might need a program . . . "

"Well," House said, "Don't you think it's better that you know in advance rather than waking up out of a sound sleep in the middle of the night wondering why Ann is moaning like that?"

"I think I could probably figure it out," Danielle noted with a smile. "I sort of remember what sex sounds like."

"It hasn't been that long, has it?" Ann inquired. "What about that guy you were dating in Texas?"

"He was okay, but we never really clicked," Danielle stated. "And when he took me to that family party where everyone was calling each other 'Bubba,' I knew it was time for this yankee to step away."

"Sounds downright scary," Ann observed.

"Big time," Danielle agreed.

House had retrieved the meat from the refrigerator, put it on a platter with the vegetables, and was heading out to the grill. Ann got Chase a beer and Danielle a glass of chardonnay. She announced she was going out to help House and left them in the kitchen.

"How much you wanna bet they're out there getting hot and sweaty right now?" Danielle asked Chase.

"Probably," Chase responded with a shudder. "Better stay here if we don't want to get scarred for life."

"Are you that hung up about sex that it would upset you to think about a couple of friends doing it? What did they do to you in that seminary?"

"It's not that I'm upset by thinking about friends doing it. It's just the idea of _House_ doing it . . . ugh."

"Well, he is your boss, I guess. But that's still too strong a reaction. You're behaving almost like it's your parents having sex."

"I can assure you that I don't think of Ann as my mother."

"But, you do think of House as your father? Wow, that's interesting."

"It isn't . . . don't . . . God, that's all I need is for House to think he's some sort of parent to me. He'll make my life a living hell."

"Ann is an amazing person. And there's no way she's serious about a guy who isn't deeply emotional. So, if I had to guess, I'd say he already knows how you feel about him."

"Then I'm screwed."

"Why?"

"Because that means he can manipulate me and torment me."

"How long have you known him?"

"Seven years."

"Has he manipulated and tormented you?"

"Yes. And he's helped me. And . . . I don't know. It's complicated."

"Sounds just like a parent-child relationship to me."

"What parent-child relationship?" House asked as he and Ann entered the kitchen with the now-cooked food.

Chase flinched, fearing not only that House would find out what they were talking about, but also that House would mock him unmercifully for it.

Danielle jumped in, "We were just saying that the one good thing about our divorces was that there were no children involved. Nothing complicates the parent-child relationship like divorce."

"You, too?" House directed his question to Danielle, who nodded. "That makes me the only one here has never been divorced."

"Don't feel superior, House," Chase jumped in. "It's only because no one would even consider marrying you."

"I would," Ann stated. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted it. She stole a glance at House, expecting to see extreme discomfort on his face. She was pleasantly surprised to see one side of his mouth upturned slightly.

"The proverbial exception that proves the rule," Chase interjected. He was so happy the focus had moved from him to someone else that he didn't even notice House's reaction.

He also felt gratitude toward Danielle for being so adept at switching gears and throwing House off the track. That was a nice thing for her to have done, especially since, other than listening to her stories, he hadn't exactly been kind to her. Maybe being a friend of hers wouldn't be so bad, as long as he watched what he ate when he was around her.

"Let's eat before this gets cold," Ann said, gesturing toward the food and changing the subject as quickly as she could.

They grabbed plates and flatware and served themselves. They sat down at the kitchen table and Ann replenished their drinks as needed.

Danielle continued to regale the assembled group with stories about her family. Chase found himself really laughing for the first time in months. He also observed House and Ann.

The thing that struck him most was the physical affection. Ann would reach for something on the table or the counter and rest her hand on House's shoulder or briefly caress the back of his neck. House would get up to get a beer and run his hand across her back. And they kept kissing each other. Little pecks on the cheek or slightly longer kisses on the lips. At one point, Ann put her hand on House's cheek and caressed his lips with her thumb. House responded by taking her hand in his and kissing it for a good five seconds.

Chase knew that if anyone deserved a little affection, it was House. House had been walled off from human contact for a long time. Chase assumed House met his sexual needs with hookers, but that wasn't the same thing as having an emotional connection.

But Chase also felt a little envious. The only person he had ever reached out to was Cameron, and it had always been a struggle. Just to get her to date him was like climbing a mountain, and then he'd had to climb a whole range just for her to allow him to use a dresser drawer at her condo. And getting her to agree to marry him was more arduous than Hercules' labors. It was as much her issues as anything to do with him, but it still hurt.

And then the way she left him. He knew he had done something terrible, whether or not it was ultimately wrong, but she couldn't be at all supportive or understanding. That moral rigidity of hers swamped everything else, including any feelings she might have had for him.

In fact, when he looked back on it, he wondered if she had ever loved him at all. Had he just worn her down? Had she been with him out of guilt or pity, like she had when she married her first husband?

"You okay?" Danielle asked, putting her hand over his and breaking into his thoughts.

"Um, yeah," Chase responded. Apparently, while he had been thinking about everything, the food had been put away and the kitchen cleaned up. Ann and House had already left the room.

There was a part of Chase's brain telling him to pull his hand away from Danielle's. But another part of him really liked it. Her hand was warm, soft and, yes, comforting.

"Ann is going to play something," Danielle informed him. "Want to join us?"

"Sure," Chase replied. As they got up and their hands separated, Chase found himself missing her touch. God, was he as deprived of human contact as he had assumed House was? All that had to happen was for some fat girl to put her hand on his and he turned weak and needy?

Or maybe was there more to it than that. Did he actually feel something for this woman? She was smart and interesting, she made him laugh, she'd managed to distract House, and he had noticed, almost in spite of himself, that she was pretty.

This was definitely not going the way it should. "Listen, I changed my mind. I'm tired and I need to get going. Could you do me a favor and thank Ann for inviting me over and for dinner?"

"Okay," Danielle responded. She could sense something had changed with Chase, but she didn't know what. "See you around."

"Um, yeah," Chase mumbled as he pulled out his keys and practically ran to the front door. Danielle watched as he slammed the door and then she headed toward the music room.

"Robert doesn't have any allergies or illnesses, does he?" Danielle asked as she entered the spare room.

"He's allergic to strawberries," House replied, "But we didn't have those tonight. Why are you asking?"

"He just left rather abruptly," Danielle noted. "I thought he might not be feeling well. By the way, Ann, he said to thank you for the invitation and dinner."

"Okay," Ann acknowledged.

"Let's get this show on the road," House insisted, indicating the harpsichord with a hand gesture. "I'm sure you're tired from your trip, and I know I want to get Ann in bed."

Ann and Danielle both smiled at House's obviousness. Ann played a couple of short pieces and they went to their respective rooms.

"Doctor Chase seems nice," Ann observed as she climbed into bed.

"Whatever," House uttered as he turned off the TV and turned to her, "Oh, and drop the "Doctor' stuff. Just call him Chase."

"_Chase_ was really uncomfortable, though."

"Probably because he doesn't like being around me."

"Will you stop that?"

"What?"

"Thinking everyone dislikes you."

"Well, maybe not everyone, but most people."

"Of the billions of people on the planet, how many have even met you? How can you say most of them don't like you?"

"Well, if you're going to use actual statistics . . . Anyway, Chase isn't just someone who encountered me on the street. He's an employee."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not exactly kind to the people who work for me. I wonder if I'm as bad as what's-his-name."

"What's whose name?"

"Your old boss. The one you and Danielle can't stand."

"I doubt you're like Carl."

"Why?"

"I've seen you interact with your staff. You're tough, but honest."

"I've been known to be manipulative."

"To knife them in the back and advance your own career at their expense?"

"No."

"And you know what you're doing, right?"

"Yes."

"Carl had no clue. And yet, in order to make himself feel important, he would insert himself into everything we were working on. Do you have any idea what it's like trying to get work done with someone supervising you who has no idea what you're doing?"

"Sort of . . . "

"You're kidding!"

"Nope."

"So, not only is she an incompetent administrator, she's a bad doctor, too."

"Well, I wouldn't call her a bad doctor. She's fine with basic stuff like what comes into the clinic. And, every once in a while, she has a flash of insight that helps solve a tough case."

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

House smiled slightly. It was a tremendous handicap working for someone who didn't understand what you were doing or why you were doing it. Then again, some of the stuff House needed to do probably wouldn't be understood by most other doctors, either. And it was crazy risky, sometimes.

House suddenly realized what was missing from his work relationship with Cuddy these days. As much as he resented it, she'd always been the one to rein him in when he got too far out there. Ever since she decided to cut short her maternity leave and come back to work to "handle" him, she'd been off the wall – resenting and hurting him, thinking she wanted him and then pushing him away, unable to deal with his breakdown, hooking up with Lucas and hiding it, then shoving it in his face, then wanting to be friends. God, _he'd_ been more predictable and consistent during that time, and he'd been crazy for a good chunk of it!

What was he doing, anyway? He had this beautiful, sexy, lovely woman in bed with him and he was thinking about his job and Cuddy? Maybe he wasn't crazy any more, but he sure was nuts.

"Can we stop talking about bosses from hell?"

"Certainly. What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk at all. I did notice that you were touching me and kissing me a lot tonight."

"And you were doing the same thing to me."

"Care to continue that? And take it further?"

"Absolutely."

House began by giving her the same soft kisses on the lips he had been doing throughout the evening.

Ann reached out to begin touching him.

"Don't," he told her softly.

"Why not?" she questioned.

"My turn," he replied. He began to touch the outside of her arms, and proceeded to her back, her shoulders and the nape of her neck. She giggled as he brought his thumbs under her hair and brushed them lightly across her ears. He pushed her hair away from her face and she flinched.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"My scars," she said, looking down.

House used his hands to tilt her head so she was looking into his eyes. "Do my scars bother you?"

"No. In fact, I love them."

"Why?"

"Because acquiring them made you who you are. They're a part of you, and since I love you, I love them, too."

"Why would you think I'd feel any differently about your scars?"

House didn't wait for an answer. He began to kiss all the scars on her face, making sure not to miss even a part of any one of them. His ears were filled with her soft, ragged sighs.

His lips met hers and their tongues danced.

He kissed her chin and her throat and made his way to her breasts. He kissed them softly and lightly licked her nipples. He felt her body quiver in response.

He traveled down her abdomen and stopped to draw his tongue across the line just above her hair as his fingers gently combed through her curls. She shivered in delight.

He moved her legs apart and used his fingers to gently part her lips. His tongue entered her. She trembled and made soft noises.

He continued and she began to rock back and forth. He moved his tongue out of her and drew it up the inside of her lips. He reached the hood and began to lick under it, tonguing the tip of her clit.

"Oh, Greg, oh God, oh Greg," she cried out as she came, her entire body flooded with pleasure and warmth.

House moved up her body and kissed her, making sure she tasted her own juices. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on his straining cock.

"Are you ready for me, Annie?" he asked.

"Yes," she croaked out, still feeling the effects of her orgasm.

House pushed into her gently and began to pump slowly. It didn't take long for them to establish a rhythm. After a while, House realized that, each time he pulled out of her, she was closing her muscles around him to heighten the sensations. God, he could hardly wait to get rid of these condoms and really feel her all around him.

They continued pumping and grunting until Ann began to go over the edge. She came hard, and that was all it took to bring House with her. Both their bodies stiffened and then relaxed.

House stayed in her as long as he dared. He slid out and removed the condom. He started to get out of bed to toss it in the trash when she reached for his arm.

"Don't leave now," she pleaded.

House tied it and put in on the nightstand. Ann pulled him to her, put her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his. House drew circles on her back as they fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Well, imagine my delight yesterday when I checked my alerts and found one update from glenlivet19, two from Diva In The House, and a new story from LANIKI.  
All fabulous, work, too (nothing surprising there, of course). I was in House/OC babe heaven! So, I was inspired to add this chapter featuring Chase and his OC. We'll get back to House and Ann shortly.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

Ann and Danielle didn't have any particular plans for the weekend. Danielle was excited to be in New Jersey for the shopping. So, she and Ann spent most of Saturday doing just that.

House decided he'd settle for not being with Ann rather than join them. Even though he had to admit to himself he was aging, he vowed he'd never be the old guy in the department store, sitting in the chair, and holding the woman's purse while she tried on clothes in the dressing room.

At the end of the day, they made a final stop at a box discount store. Ann had seen in the weekly advertisement that propane gas tanks were on sale and she needed a new one for her grill.

They picked out a tank and were waiting in the checkout line when they saw Chase.

"Hi, Robert," Danielle greeted him.

"Um, hi," Chase responded shyly.

"Wow, that looks appetizing," Ann commented sarcastically as she saw that the basket he was carrying was full of frozen dinners.

"Some of the Lean Cuisines are actually pretty good," Danielle asserted.

"You eat Lean Cuisine?" Chase asked, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice.

"Yeah," Danielle responded. "Of course, when you eat five in one sitting, it tends not to be too 'lean' anymore."

A bewildered look crossed Chase's face. Then, Danielle and Ann both burst out laughing.

"You know, I think he actually believed you there for a second," Ann said, trying to catch her breath.

"Sorry to bust on you," Danielle apologized, "But I know you were thinking it."

"I was not," Chase denied.

"Well, maybe not that exactly, but you were wondering how a large women stays large on a diet of Lean Cuisine."

"I guess," Chase admitted.

"Well, some of us are genetically superior to others," Danielle proclaimed.

"What do you mean?" Chase questioned.

"Well, do you agree that for most of human history, the vast majority of people spent their lives living in a state of deprivation when it came to food?" Danielle asked.

"Yes," Chase agreed.

"My theory is that many of us adapted successfully to those circumstances by being able to maintain our body weight on very little food."

"I'm with you so far," Chase noted.

"So, when the industrial revolution came along, and food became plentiful, we were suddenly at a disadvantage because if we ate the now abundant food, we would gain weight," Danielle concluded.

"That's an interesting idea, I guess," Chase noted.

"But you don't subscribe to it?" Danielle asked.

"Um, no," Chase replied.

"Well, then," Danielle countered, "How do you explain that when I go on a diet of 1,200 calories a day, and I exercise an hour each day, that I don't lose weight?"

"You've done that and it hasn't worked?" Chase questioned.

"Nope," Ann responded. "And, when I do it, I spend months feeling deprived, exhausted and frustrated. Can you understand that, by now, I've decided to come to terms with the size and shape of my body? I eat nutritiously, and I exercise about a half hour a day. And this is what I get. And so does the world, like it or lump it."

At this point, they were through the checkout and were standing in the parking lot near Ann's car.

"Speaking of good eats," Ann interjected, "You want to come over for dinner tonight, Doctor Chase? I'm making my famous pasta and meatballs."

Chase was deep in thought. This woman had actually tried to lose weight and failed? It didn't seem possible. She must be doing something wrong. Then again, she was an intelligent person and the concepts involved in dieting were hardly rocket science. Maybe she had a thyroid condition.

"By the way," Danielle noted, "I had my thyroid tested and it's in the low normal range."

_Oh, well_, Chase thought, _so much for that idea_.

"This is all fascinating," Ann cut in once more, "But I have a hungry, demanding man waiting at home. Yes or no?"

"Okay," Chase agreed. "I'll just go home and put these in the freezer."

"See you later," Ann acknowledged.

Chase arrived at Ann's house about forty-five minutes later. After House finished his grumbling about seeing Chase again, they settled down to a delicious dinner. Chase noticed that Danielle did not eat large portions, and even skipped dessert.

Maybe she was right about being designed to be fat. Well, even if it wasn't her fault, he was not interested in her. Sure, she was intelligent, funny, passionate and kind. And, for a fat person, she was even pretty. And she seemed to like him, at least as a friend. Still . . .

Still – what, exactly? Chase began to wonder that if her only significant imperfection was her weight, why did that preclude everything else? It wasn't like he was ever going to find a flawless person. And this was just a friendship, anyway, right? So, why was it important? Was he actually considering friends with benefits? He quickly pushed that thought out of his head.

Well, none of this mattered, anyway, since she had to go back to Texas. She said she was going to try to get a job with Ann's company, but there was certainly no guarantee she would. And even if she did, she could still wind up working in California or anywhere but New Jersey.

So, that was that, and it was definitely for the best. Then why did Chase feel disappointed? He decided he really did have to get out more. He also decided that, after Danielle had entertained him all weekend and Ann had fed him that the least he could do was save Ann the trip and take Danielle to the airport.

Chase came by to pick up Danielle mid-morning on Sunday.

"Did you have anything for breakfast?" Danielle inquired after she had put her bag in the trunk and had climbed into the passenger seat.

"Yeah," Chase responded. "You?"

"Ann made us a big breakfast."

"Why do you ask?"

"I thought we could stop and get you something at the airport, if the check-in lines aren't too long. What about a cup of coffee?"

"It's kind of a pain to park."

"Okay."

"So, how was your weekend?"

"Excellent. I got to see a friend of mine, met her significant other, had two pleasant dinners, went for a day of shopping, and made a friend. At least I hope I did."

"I guess."

"Wow. That's a ringing endorsement."

"Sorry. I just don't think I'm very good at being a friend. I don't exactly have a lot of experience."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my mom was an alcoholic, and I could never bring anyone home when I was a kid because I was afraid they would see her drunk or passed out."

"That sucks. What about after that?"

"The seminary was a place to seek the spiritual, and friendship is definitely on the earth plain. And I know there are people who form life-long friendships in college, but I'm not one of them. Med school? Forget it! Way too cutthroat. As an intern and a resident, I was barely able to cope with the sleep deprivation, let alone have the energy to make friends. When I came to this country . . . "

"You found that Americans are totally closed-off and unfriendly?"

"No, but working for House, well, let's just say it was even more competitive than med school."

"And then an unhappy marriage. Wow, that's so lonely."

"I guess . . . "

"And here I thought skinny people were happy."

"Well, we don't have society telling us there's something wrong with us, but, other than that, we're just like, um . . . "

"You can say it – fat people."

There was silence. Chase refused to look at her.

"You're really hung up about all this weight stuff. Why?" Danielle asked.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "All I know is that my mom got fat, my dad left her, he barely saw me after that, and she drank herself to death."

"Do you really think that if she hadn't gained weight, they would have stayed together, she wouldn't have become an alcoholic, he would have been a totally involved dad, and the three of you would have lived happily ever after?"

"I don't know . . . "

"Of course you do! He probably left her because of the drinking, and maybe twenty other things! She probably would have continued drinking even if he'd stayed. And it wasn't your fault she was drunk, or fat, or whatever else it was that he couldn't deal with. So, he was a shitty dad for ignoring you."

Chase was quiet again. She was very likely right. He was an adult now, and he knew from bitter personal experience that relationships were not simple cause and effect. He also knew he had created a narrative during his childhood that may have had nothing to do with the reality of his parents' marriage. At this point, all he was certain of was his childhood was lonely and painful. And Danielle was right that he hadn't done anything to either cause it or deserve it.

Of course, if he admitted that his parents' relationship was too complex to fit his simple story, he'd have to give up his long-held belief that if only his mom had stayed slim, their lives wouldn't have come apart. And, in all honesty, then he couldn't keep reflexively hating fat people any more, either.

"You okay?" Danielle asked. "You left me for a while there."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being an asshole."

"Well, okay, but wouldn't the apology be more effective if you actually apologized to the person you had treated like shit?"

"I've . . . you . . . I've held some opinions about you . . . well . . . they weren't nice."

"At least you didn't say them out loud. You wouldn't believe some of the things people have said to me over the course of my life. I remember once in school this kid stuck me in the side with a pin. When I asked him why, he said he thought I looked like a big balloon, and he wanted to see if I would pop."

"Ouch . . . "

"When I became an adult, I thought it would be better. And it was, provided I was at work where people were at least somewhat careful about what they said. I actually stopped going out with co-workers after hours because people would get a little drunk, let their guard down and tell me what they really thought. The thing that used to get me the most were the people who could eat whatever they wanted and never gain weight telling me I was overweight because I lacked discipline or character. Like they were morally superior because they were born with a higher metabolic rate than I was!"

Unfortunately, Chase could see himself saying or doing everything Danielle had described, both as a kid and, even more unfortunately, as an adult. The only good news was that he hadn't done it to Danielle herself.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm sorry about them, too," Chase said.

"It's nice to see all of that seminary training wasn't lost. Catholic guilt - nothing like it."

Chase grinned in spite of himself. "Listen, do you think we could be friends?"

"I thought we already were," Danielle responded.

They exchanged cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses and talked until they got to the airport. Chase dropped Danielle off. He didn't park and go in with her, but he did get out and help her with her luggage. He also found himself hugging and kissing her goodbye. Like he would any friend, he supposed.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

The next week and a half found House consumed with a case. He would get his patient stabilized, and, he thought, cured, only to find her crashing again. He spent very late nights at work, and even though he saw Ann at her place the next weekend, it was for little more than sleeping a few hours and returning to the hospital.

He became concerned about the toll the case was taking on their relationship. When he had been alone, this kind of intense focus was a welcome distraction from his pain and the emptiness of his life. Now it had the potential to be a major problem. What was it that Stacy said? When she was with him she felt lonely, like there was no room for her. He didn't want Ann to feel the same way.

He felt even worse when he realized, as he was finally wrapping up the case late Wednesday night, that they had missed their first opportunity for condom-free sex the previous night. And the sad thing was, House was so exhausted, he knew it wouldn't happen that night, either.

He called Cuddy on his way out and left a message on the voicemail of her cell. The fact that she didn't pick up led him to believe she might be having sex with Lucas. Or, at least Lucas was having sex and Cuddy was watching. He smirked at the thought.

He told her that he was exhausted and would be out for the rest of the week. It was the last week of August, and Labor Day was the following Monday, so he would be taking a five-day weekend. He thought he would spend most of tomorrow trying to get caught up on sleep, if his leg cooperated. That would still be a four-day weekend with Ann, provided she could get away Friday.

It was late, but he wanted to call her. A good part of it was just missing her. (Although the downside was that he was so horny from the lack of sex that talking to her would greatly increase his frustration.) Still, he wanted to be able to plan the weekend a little bit, and he wanted to know if she would have to work Friday.

"Hi, Greg," she said as she picked up the phone. "How are you?"

"Well, I finished the case, finally," he responded, "But I'm wiped out."

"I wish I was there to give you a massage and cuddle with you."

"I think I'm too tired even for that."

"Poor baby."

"Listen, it's late and we both should be getting some rest, so I'll make this brief. I'm taking the next two days off, and with the long weekend, that makes five days. I was wondering if you wanted to spend some time with me."

"Oh, Greg, I'd love to! I have to work tomorrow, but I should be able to take Friday through Monday. Is that okay?"

House let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Was it okay? He would have danced in the streets if he weren't so tired, and his leg would have allowed it. "Don't worry about tomorrow. I'm not twenty anymore and I'm going to need to catch up on sleep or, at least rest."

"Well, if you don't think we can get together tomorrow night, I guess that's okay."

House was concerned at the disappointment he heard in her voice. "That's not what I meant. Since we usually spend the weekend at your place anyway, is it okay if I come over there rather than you come over here tomorrow night?"

"Makes sense to me. Listen, I got this alert on my blackberry yesterday . . . "

"Something about rubber? I'm sorry I wasn't there last night."

"Don't be. Do you want to have phone sex now?"

"As enticing as that sounds, I think I'll pass. I'm exhausted, plus I really want things to build for tomorrow night."

"You'll be home all day, so you can hang around with a hard-on. What am I going to do at the hospital, walking around all day, dripping wet?"

"Just stop it. You're going to kill me."

"Whatever you say, stud."

They said goodnight and went to sleep.

* * *

House did sleep until eleven the next morning. When he woke up, he thought about getting something to eat and just going back to bed, but he wanted to check on some things to do for the weekend, specifically, making plans to get away.

Since it was a holiday, and the last weekend of the summer at that, he was pretty sure there would be nothing available. He really wanted to take Ann somewhere special, but it was completely last minute, and he thought there was no chance to find anything.

What he hadn't planned on was the impact of a bad economy. When he checked into places to stay at the shore, he found what looked like quite a bit of availability, especially at the higher-priced places.

At first, that gave him pause, but then he thought he probably owed it to Ann for putting up with his insane schedule for the last week and a half. There was also everything she had done for him. In any case, the odds of him getting lots of sex increased considerably with an expensive romantic getaway.

As he examined the places that had rooms available, one bed and breakfast caught his attention. It had a suite with a balcony that overlooked the ocean, and a private beach. He wondered just how private it was. He called the innkeeper for more details and the owner informed him in a subtle way that the beach was _completely_ private, which was just what House wanted to hear.

He gave them his credit card information for the deposit. He packed a bag to take on the trip. He also stopped at the supermarket on the way over to Ann's house.

When Ann came through the door at five-thirty, she smelled something wonderful cooking. As she walked into the kitchen, House's back was to her as he prepared something on the countertop.

Ann came behind him and slid her arms around his waist. She rested her chin in the space between his shoulder blades and reached up to kiss him at the base of his neck. "Smells wonderful."

"My leg's iffy and I'm still tired, so it's nothing fancy."

"I'm sure I'll love whatever you cook for me. And don't get too tired. I have some _expectations_ for tonight."

"I hope I don't disappoint you."

"Are you kidding? I get to feel you inside me for the first time, skin-on-skin, after having waited for sex for nearly two weeks. I'm almost ready to come just thinking about it, let alone doing it."

"Just remember I'm an old, crippled guy."

"No you're not. You're my sexy stud."

House made a mental note of the use of the possessive. It didn't displease him, but he wasn't going to make a big deal about it. "Let's just eat so we can keep up our strength."

The meal was delicious. Clean up was fast and House and Ann retired to the bedroom.

"You didn't make much extra tonight," Ann noted as they lay in bed touching each other. "I'm not complaining – the food was great. I was just wondering if you're trying to tell me you don't like leftovers."

"Believe me," House stated, "If I don't like something, you'll know it. Besides, I never understood why someone wouldn't like leftovers, anyway. If you like the original meal, why wouldn't you like the repeat? It doesn't make any sense."

"True."

"There's another reason I didn't want to have a lot of food sitting in the refrigerator."

Ann looked at him expectantly.

"I know this is short notice, and if you don't want to do it, I'll understand . . . "

"Oh, just tell me already, will you?"

"I made a reservation for us to stay at a small inn for the weekend."

"Really? What a great idea! Where?"

"Cape May. It's a little touristy, but it's not too honky-tonk like Atlantic City."

"So, will we be staying near the beach?"

"The room I have reserved has a balcony looking directly out over the ocean. And, the innkeeper informed me, a _very_ private beach."

"So, I can live out my 'From Here to Eternity' fantasy?"

"As long as you don't start using some cheesy British accent like Deborah Kerr."

Suddenly, Ann lay back on the bed and spread her hair out on the pillow. She put one arm over her head and breathlessly said, "I never knew it could be like this."

House snorted. "You know, despite what everyone thinks they remember about that scene from the movie, they never had sex on the beach."

"Well, then I'll live out my enhanced fantasy."

"It could turn out to be cold and wet, and we could get a lot of sand in our butt cracks."

"I'm willing to risk it to find out what it's like. Speaking of finding out what something is like, I'm more than ready to see and _feel_ Mount Gregory in all his huge, naked glory."

"And I like a woman who knows what she wants."

They began by kissing, both of them knowing it had been a while since they had given each other tongue, let alone gone further than that. The urgency was building quickly.

House caressed her breasts gently, remembering her telling him that they were sensitive. She sighed in appreciation. Usually, he was pretty good about foreplay, but he just wasn't in the mood tonight. They hadn't been together for almost two weeks, and they both wanted to experience sex without barriers, so he moved swiftly.

He lightly brushed her core and found she was sufficiently wet for him. He was erect himself, so he slid into her.

He began to pump rapidly, until Ann put a hand on his chest.

"Could you please slow down, just a little?" she asked softly. "I want to feel you as much as I can."

House attempted to comply, but found his urgency overtaking everything else. He started to pump quickly again, and, before he knew it, he was ready to come. He was pretty sure she wasn't ready, but he just couldn't stop at that point. He felt his balls tighten, and he emptied himself deep inside her.

After House's wits returned, he started to wonder whether she had had an orgasm. Her body usually reacted pretty strongly, and he certainly knew when she came the other times they'd had sex because he could feel it, even through the condom. Since he hadn't felt anything, he was positive she hadn't.

_Son of a bitch_, he thought to himself. _The first time I ride bareback and I didn't even make her come._ He wasn't Two-Minute-Wonder Lucas, but he felt damn close.

House was inside Ann and his cock was softening. He was still tired and he was pretty sure he didn't have another round left. He hadn't been looking at her while he was thinking about what had happened. He stole a glance at her face. He was expecting to see frustration, so he was surprised when he saw a beautiful smile. Of course, that made him feel even worse.

He pulled out. Just because he'd been a little too eager didn't mean she had to be completely denied. His hand found its way to her center and he slid in one, then two fingers.

He found her g spot. He caressed it lightly at first, then with more pressure. He added his thumb, lightly rubbing her clit.

Ann reacted with a series of moans as he picked up the pace. She rocked against him and fresh moisture flooded his hand. She stared into House's eyes as she came, a look of sheer bliss on her face. He moved his hand away. She put her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

They held each other for a while. House finally pulled back.

"Sorry I . . . sorry it was so fast."

"I'm guessing it's been a while since you haven't used a condom."

"Over ten years."

"And I'm guessing it has to feel differently without one. More stimulation, right?"

"By of factor, of, I don't know, but a lot, yeah."

"So, it's only logical with the extra sensations that you would find it more difficult to hold out as long."

"I guess. I just don't want to be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy."

"You made sure I had an orgasm even after you were finished, so don't worry about it. You are the most thoughtful lover I've ever had, no contest. Besides, you'll get used to it, and you'll get your control back, I'm sure."

"I don't ever want to get used to banging you."

Ann couldn't help but smile at that comment. It was an utterly romantic sentiment disguised as a crude remark. "Let's just say things will improve with a lot of practice."

Now, House couldn't help but smile. "Let's get some rest. You have to pack tomorrow and we have to get on the road."

"I know nothing about distances in New Jersey. Is it a long drive?"

"A little over two hours with good traffic. That's another reason we don't want to get a late start. We don't want to deal with traffic on the Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend."

"Yes, Dad."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"I love you, Greg."

"I love you, Annie."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

Ann was up at eight and had everything packed by nine. They showered, had a substantial breakfast and left by ten-thirty.

It took them about two and a half hours to get to the bed and breakfast. It was too early for them to check in, but they were able to park their car and leave their luggage with the innkeeper. They wandered around the town and had a leisurely lunch. When they got back to the inn, they checked in and the innkeeper helped them get their suitcases up to the third floor.

Even though it was a bit of a struggle for House to go up two flights, he had chosen the room because of the balcony and because it had a large bathroom, with a big shower and a whirlpool tub for two. Between the drive, the walk around town and the stairs, that tub was looking really good to him.

He started the water and went into the bedroom to get undressed. Ann had gone down to talk to the innkeeper while House was in the bathroom, and she was just returning to the room as House finished undressing.

"There's nothing quite like coming back to your room to find a naked man with a great body and a huge schwanz waiting for you. It's like winning the lottery," Ann remarked.

As usual, House felt uncomfortable receiving a compliment. "Why were you downstairs?" he asked, quickly changing the subject

"Apparently, you need to make dinner reservations a day before or there isn't anything available," Ann informed him.

"Sorry," House replied.

"You didn't know, and the innkeeper admitted he forgot to tell you when you booked the room yesterday."

"Does that mean we have to skip dinner?"

"He felt badly, and he's going to help us out. Apparently, there is a really good pizza place that delivers, so we can have dinner on the balcony. He also said he'd share some of his Dog Fish Head Ninety Minute IPA. I assume that's beer?"

"Some pretty decent ale, actually. Sounds good. The tub should be filled by now. Care to join me?"

"You sure there's enough room for both of us? My ass is pretty big."

"Yes, it is. And every bit of it is gorgeous. The tub is designed to fit two people, and, if for some reason it doesn't, you can always sit between my legs."

"Or, you can sit between mine and I can reach around and give you a hand job."

At the words "hand job," Mount Gregory started to stand at attention.

"I can see someone likes that idea," Ann observed. She quickly stripped and they both headed for the bathroom.

They turned off the water and eased themselves in. Ann added some almond-scented body wash and House started the jets.

The swirling water began to relax House's leg.

"You said we need to make dinner reservations a day in advance," House stated. "What about tomorrow night?"

"I asked Hale about a good seafood restaurant and he showed me the menu for a place that has tables on a deck right on the beach. He said he'd make a reservation for us."

"Hale?"

"That's the innkeeper's name, Hale Wentford the Third."

"Boy, I bet he got beat up a lot as a kid."

"Not in the circles he traveled in, I'm sure."

"Prep School?"

"I'm guessing. And then probably an east-coast Ivy League college."

"Then what is he doing changing sheets and cleaning toilets?"

"I'm sure he's paying someone else to do that."

"Okay, but he's still not much more than a glorified concierge. Why does he want to do that?"

"I'd say he enjoys meeting people, but I don't want to hear you snort in derision. This house is old and I'm guessing it's very expensive to maintain, not to mention that the property taxes are probably outrageous. And since it's on the ocean, the insurance must be astronomical. So, if it's a business, all that stuff is deductible."

"How do you know about taxes?"

"My ex is a CPA."

"You married a CPA?"

"What? He was heterosexual and everything."

"Yeah, but you're so emotional and artistic and passionate. I just can't imagine your being happy with someone who gets a hard on when two columns of numbers balance."

"I wasn't happy. Between that and my drinking, it's amazing we stayed together at all. Did I ever tell you my favorite accountant joke? What did the constipated accountant do?"

"What?"

"He worked it out with a pencil. Hey, speaking of hard-ons . . ."

Ann took advantage of House being amused at her witticism by moving over and sliding between the side of the tub and House's back. She positioned her legs around his and pulled him against her chest.

House could feel her breasts press against his back and her pubic hair tickle his butt. His cock started to stiffen again.

"Men's penises are so predictable," she declared with a smile as she put her hands around his cock.

She began to move her hand up and down, making sure to pull back the foreskin with each stroke. Her other hand moved down to cup his balls, and she used her pinky and ring fingers to rub the spot behind them, causing House to throw his head back and moan. It had been a long time since anyone touched him there and he'd forgotten how good it felt.

After she finished there, she brought her hand to the tip of his cock. The hand that had been stroking him pulled back his foreskin while the index finger of her other hand caressed his now exposed tip. He hissed at the feeling.

House had thought he wouldn't feel things as much under the water, but it actually seemed to heighten the sensations. Ann began stroking him again, continuing to circle the end of his penis while his foreskin slid back and forth over her finger. The stimulation was incredible and House let out a loud groan. He was very close.

Ann must have felt it because at that moment, she began to kiss and nip at the back of his neck. She moved around the side of his neck traveling up to the spot under his ear and coming back down. House's head lolled back on her shoulder, giving her access to the front of his neck, which she proceeded to kiss and lick.

Between having one of his most tender spots kissed and having his cock rubbed in such an exquisite way, House was unable to hold back any longer. He exploded into the water. He was panting heavily.

Ann waited until he calmed down. She had put her arms around his torso and was resting her cheek against his. They stayed like this for several minutes as House recovered.

"We should get out soon."

Ann was enjoying holding him so much she didn't want to move. "Why do we have to do that?"

"Because the water's getting cold, and because you don't want my giz all over you."

"As you know, I like having your cum on me. The cold water is another issue. Let's take a shower."

"Together?"

"We just took a bath together, and we're going to be doing it in the ocean, so why not?"

"I just . . . I mean I'm not sure I can . . . "

They had gotten out of the tub and Ann was heading to the shower. She turned back to look at him. House saw the serious expression on her face and braced himself.

"Should I stop calling you 'my sexy stud'?" she asked gently.

"Why? Because I can't live up to it?"

"God, you're such an idiot sometimes! No, because it puts too much pressure on you! You know, I'm not expecting some sexual athlete. I just want to enjoy the man I love. Oh, and if you can't get it up again, I'd love some more hand gymnastics like last night."

House had gone from feeling inadequate to feeling pitied to feeling loved to feeling desired to feeling . . . like laughing. How did she do that in two minutes? He dutifully followed her into the shower and pleasured her completely.

Dinner on the balcony was pizza on paper plates with beer and sparkling water. There were also candles (to keep the insects away), and, when night fell, the beach illuminated by moonlight and stars, and the sound of the waves pounding against the shore. All in all, quite romantic.

They slept soundly that night in the king size bed, with the balcony doors open to a warm ocean breeze, rustling the sheet that covered their naked, entwined bodies.

House woke up early the next morning. His leg was acting up a little, and he needed to take some pain meds. Rather than wake up Ann, he grabbed his pills and went into the sitting room. He took some and turned on the TV without the sound.

After about a half-hour, Ann appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. She was naked, tousled, and looked like she just woke up. _God, she's stunning_, House thought.

"I hope they have a porn channel, and you're watching it and getting in the mood," she stated as she went back into the bedroom.

House heard her go into the bathroom and then he heard the toilet flush. Suddenly, his leg was feeling so much better, and another part of his anatomy had perked up, too. He turned off the TV and limped quickly into the bedroom. He found Ann laying on the bed, with her legs spread open and her arms reaching out to him.

He climbed on the bed and into her open, inviting body. He didn't kiss her right away, he simply embraced her tightly. He was staying in a beautiful place with a beautiful woman who loved him. He was one lucky bastard. And now he wanted to show her just how grateful he was.

Having released a lot of the urgency in the previous days, their lovemaking was how House had wanted it to be on Thursday night – slow and tender, with lots of touching everywhere. He was able to hold himself long enough this time for Ann to have two orgasms before he came. And he stayed inside her afterward, with Ann contracting her muscles all around him, giving him the most delicious aftershocks he had ever experienced.

Even though they had woken up early, because of all their activities, by the time they showered and dressed they almost missed breakfast. It was a full breakfast, with bacon and an egg strata, along with granola and muffins baked on the premises.

As they headed back to their room to change for the beach, Ann remarked that a lot of B and B's didn't have that extensive a breakfast, with hot food. House almost made the comment that for the price he was paying, they should be serving smoked salmon and caviar for breakfast. He held back because he didn't want her to think he resented spending money on her. She was _so_ worth it, just for the sex, let alone everything else.

Speaking of sex, they were heading to the private beach. At this point they weren't hungry and the reservation was for a not-late dinner, so they packed some snacks they bought at a grocery store they had stopped in the previous day. They had put a few bottles of water in Hale's freezer to use as ice packs in the cooler Ann had brought in the car.

They had another huge tote bag for a blanket, beach towels, sunscreen, hand sanitizer and their sunglasses. House was amazed by Ann's level of preparedness; he thought she should either be working for the Department of Homeland Security or she should be a mom. He smiled inwardly at the thought of her going places with her kids carrying a handbag the size of California with everything in it they would ever need.

House sobered when it occurred to him that she might want him to be her kids' father. Even being a hypothetical dad was quite scary. She had said that she wanted children and he had told her that he believed things were possible with her that he had never thought were possible for him. Did that really mean he could be a father? He was still plagued by serious doubts. He decided this was just too heavy a subject to think about on a beach vacation on the last weekend of the summer.

Hale assisted them in bringing a large umbrella down to the beach. He subtly drew their attention to a sheltered cove down by the water, "just in case" the umbrella wasn't enough to protect them from the sun.

"I wonder how many people he's told that bullshit about the cove and the sun in the time he's run this place?" House asked as he and Ann put the blanket under the umbrella and sat down.

"We're just lucky we don't have any competition for it this weekend," Ann responded.

They had met the other guests who were staying at the inn at breakfast that morning.

"Yeah, I don't think that couple in their eighties would be interested. At least not so soon after her hip replacement and his getting a pacemaker," House stated

"I was amazed they were even traveling. Good for them," Ann commented. "What about those two women sharing the room on the second floor?"

"They aren't a couple; they're sisters."

"Oh. Did I ever tell you about one of my favorite cartoons? There are these two guys in eighteenth century garb, sitting at a desk in front of a large book. One says, 'It's a great dictionary, Doctor Johnson, but I'm not sure I'd define incest as 'rolling your own.' ' "

"What is it this weekend with you and the jokes?"

"Sorry. I thought you'd find them amusing."

"I do. But I'm wondering if I need to find a nightclub here with an open mike night so you can get up and do ten minutes."

"The only thing I want to 'do' is you, and I hope it's longer than ten minutes, or I'm going to start calling you 'Lucas.' "

"Thursday night . . . "

". . . Was an aberration with a perfectly reasonable explanation, and was still longer than ten minutes!"

"Was it?"

"We kissed longer than ten minutes, let alone how long we spent doing it."

"I guess the time goes by very quickly whenever we're together."

"Smooth. Let's have some water and some of the snacks."

They each snagged a bottle of water from the cooler and shifted through the munchies. Their snacks consisted of some healthy food like fruit, along with some serious junk food like pretzels and red licorice.

"My Mom used to get these for every trip," Ann reminisced as they opened the bag of Twizzlers. "No wonder I had such a huge fanny. I remember one year we went to the Cape and it was really windy. Ever try to eat licorice coated with fine sand? Very interesting texture."

"We didn't take a lot of vacations when I was a kid," House stated.

"Why not?"

"When you move three times a year, packing clothes to go somewhere else doesn't seem like a recreational thing to do."

"True. And?"

House was not surprised that Ann knew there was more to it than that. "My dad didn't believe in vacations. He thought of them as occasions for shiftless frivolity."

"I find that ironic."

"How?"

"Well, anyone who can think of any occasion as an opportunity for 'shiftless frivolity' is such a tight-ass that they couldn't possibly engage in frivolity, shiftless or otherwise, even if the 'occasion' presented itself."

"So, what you're saying is that I didn't miss enjoyable vacations, I missed being dragged around to some place I had no interest in because my father determined it was educational or edifying, in summer heat and humidity, risking heatstroke because he thought it would build my character and endurance."

"Most likely."

"Gee, and all this time I thought it was just because he was a prick. If he weren't dead, I'd thank him. Hey, let's talk about your mom."

"Oh, man," Ann groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Just tell me why you hate her, and then we can move on."

"I don't hate her. I'm just not close to her."

"Okay, then why aren't you 'close to her'?"

"Wow, defining the mother-child bond as a song so awful, it doesn't even make the playlist of oldies stations . . . "

"Quit stalling and spill it."

"It's just . . . I don't know . . . she never really got me, I guess."

"Well, The Kinks are worlds better than The Carpenters, so we're making progress. Keep going."

"I said I don't know! Why is this important to you?"

"Because it's important to you. Unfortunately, that's not a song title."

Ann smiled slightly. "I guess I never sat down to figure it out. It was what it was. She obviously loved my brother, and she really didn't like me. It was a fact of existence, like gravity or evolution."

"How many kids did she want to have?"

"No clue."

"Was it either one or more than two?"

"Again, I don't know. But why should that matter?"

Because, if she wanted only one and you were a surprise, she could have resented that, and you. And, if she wanted more than two, and, for whatever reason, she couldn't have any more after you, she might have resented that, and you."

"I guess, but I'm not sure it's about numbers. I just know that I always felt uncomfortable in her presence. It was like we never really connected. At least not like I connected with my dad."

"Could she have been jealous of that?"

"Jealous?"

"Well, I sometimes used to think that my dad was envious of the way my mom and I got along, like with music . . . "

"Interesting."

"That, and my not being his biological child."

"What? How?"

"Don't know the circumstances. I think I know who my biological father is. He's a Unitarian minister, so I didn't get my lack of spirituality from him."

"You're sure?"

"Not about my biological dad. I'm guessing based on people that my mom knows, and some similar physical characteristics. I do know for sure the guy who raised me isn't my father. I did a DNA test from a sample I got at his funeral."

"Wow . . . "

"Ready to run away screaming?" House tried to make it sound like a joke, but he couldn't completely mask the anxiety in his voice.

"Why would I do that? A lot of the problems in our lives are self-created. But if ever there were anything that wasn't your fault, it's this."

"Well, it wouldn't be irrational for you to think that since my mother committed adultery, I could be prone to be unfaithful."

"You don't know that your mother committed adultery."

"Since this was in the days before artificial insemination and in-vitro fertilization, it's a pretty safe bet she had sex with someone other than John."

"You said you don't know the circumstances. You don't know that it was _voluntary_."

"Are you saying she was raped? But she knew him."

"First of all, you aren't one-hundred per cent positive it was him. Second, haven't you ever heard of acquaintance rape?"

"I'm pretty sure it was him, judging from the traits we have in common. And how it could it be acquaintance rape? They were all friends for years. He came to John's funeral!"

"And no woman has _ever_ hidden the circumstance of a rape and put on a brave face."

"You didn't. You stepped right up and went after those bastards that hurt you."

"I didn't know them, for one thing. And it was 2005, not 1958."

"If that's what really happened, you should still want to get away, because that means my biological father is a rapist. And even if he isn't, what about the bad upbringing I had because my father hated me? You said you want kids. If I were around them, you know I could be abusive because of what happened to me."

"You have to choose to be abusive, and I know you wouldn't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"That's not a real answer."

"It's my answer. What do you think? I have the whole situation boiled down to mathematical equations and Euclidian proofs? Do you think that would even make sense?"

"No, but you have to base it on something."

"On how I feel about you, and how you make me feel."

"On pure emotion, then?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I understand that."

"Yes, you do."

"I'm the one who believes in facts and logic, remember?"

"You may think you believe that. You may even try to conduct your life like you believe that, but anyone who knows you knows that emotion just pours off of you. It's like body heat."

"You're the first person to ever tell me that. Everyone else tells me I'm cold and unfeeling. Are you saying all those people are wrong?"

"Absolutely."

"You're a minority of one."

"Who you are isn't subject to a vote."

"Well, then how do you know this when everyone else doesn't?"

"I know you."

"Other people know me, too."

"Apparently not. Not at all."

House was rocked back on his heels. This woman knew him that well? Better than Wilson? Better than Cuddy? Better than Stacy? Better than his own mother?

Of course, House had spent years hiding himself behind a mask. In fact, he'd always taken pride in how successfully he'd kept himself hidden. And here comes someone who's known him for a few weeks, and she sees behind it, and so effortlessly? How had she done that?

Was it him? Had House really changed that much since Mayfield? He still was hardly wearing his heart on his sleeve, and, judging how his team, Cuddy and Wilson were treating him, he hadn't changed much at all.

So, it was Ann. Looking at him through new eyes. Unable to be fooled by his deflections. Seeing him as he really was. And loving him. Not in spite of it, but because of it.

House's feelings swept over him. Maybe she was right that he was emotional. All he knew at the moment was his throat was closing and he couldn't speak.

"Let's go to the cove now," Ann said softly, "You know, to get out of the sun."

* * *

A/N: Sorry to leave you hanging like this, with sex about to happen (beach sex, no less!), but this chapter seemed to go on and on, and this was the only logical breakpoint. At least I'm fairly certain you'll stay tuned. Insert diabolical laugh here.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

A/N: This chapter was really tough for me to write, for some reason. I don't think I did justice to the beach sex, for one thing, but I'll let you be the judge. As always, thanks for all the thoughtful reviews, as well as the favorites and alerts. I PM'ed a certain person over in the Huddy story area who wrote a rant (which doesn't belong there, but, for some reason, it hasn't been taken down yet), that the people here on this site are gentle and supportive and it is my refuge from the craziness that the Internet can sometimes be. (In this person's case, it was pearls before swine.) Anyway, I thought I should let you know just how much I appreciate you, my readers. I don't think I say it enough. So, thank you.

* * *

Ann took House by the hand and they went down to the water. Between the rock formations and the plants surrounding it, the cove was completely secluded. The only way to see anything was from the ocean, and since the beachfront was privately owned, very few people passed by, at least anywhere near the shoreline.

Before House was consciously aware of it, Ann had removed her bathing suit and had stripped off his trunks, too.

She lay down on the sand and pulled him on top of her. The waves rolled up and covered them up to about their chests, and then retreated again. They were kissing deeply, with their tongues seeming to reach almost all the way to the back to each other's throats.

They began to grind their hips together. Ann could feel House's erect penis against her belly. She moved her legs apart. House waited for the next wave before he moved into position, allowing the water to fully soak her pussy.

"Oh, that's cold," she shivered.

"It's about to get a lot warmer," House said in a husky voice as he slid his cock inside her. He began to push in and out of her, and she met his thrusts, with both of them unconsciously keeping time with the waves. They pounded each other as the sea pounded the shore.

Other than the first time the wave hit and House let the water touch Ann, as the water found them, their bodies were joined together. House's unconscious mind directed his body to be inside Ann as each wave hit, keeping her warm, protected and full. Ann's unconscious also seemed to direct her body to protect House and pull him inside her as the water reached them.

The ocean was slow and steady, and so was their lovemaking, allowing them to completely feel each other. They were still getting used to the skin-to-skin contact. Ann had enjoyed having sex with House when he used condoms. Really enjoyed it. Yet this was better still. She felt every spot on his cock, and her body responded. She could feel herself contracting around him, her body wanting to keep him inside, aching for him each time he slipped out.

House could feel Ann's body close around him every time he entered her. It felt like every one of her muscles was twitching or squeezing at every spot on his cock. He thought she had some amazing skills, and he was thrilled she was willing to share them with him.

Then he looked at her face. Her eyes were open, but she seemed to be away somewhere. Certainly there was no focus or concentration. So, what she was doing wasn't conscious; her body was simply responding to his. Something in his chest pulled at the realization.

He already knew she loved him. She'd demonstrated it repeatedly. But this meant she loved him completely, emotionally and physically. The leg didn't matter. The scars and wrinkles and sags didn't matter. She wanted his body to join with hers. She wanted him without reservation or condition. She wanted _him_.

Ann's body convulsed as she climaxed. She felt her entire body flood with pleasure. Her lower half felt like it was melting away.

Ann orgasm was enough stimulation to make House cum. His entire body stiffened as he ejaculated deep inside her. He continued to pump until he was completely finished.

The feeling of House's semem filling her body, along with his continued pumping pushed Ann over into another orgasm, even more intense than the first. Her head went back as she called out his name, and her body felt like jello. She pulled him as close as she could.

They were panting. House's forehead rested against Ann's chest as she ran her fingers gently through his hair. They were physically and emotionally spent. And completely satisfied.

Once they regained their breath and their senses, they moved up the beach a little deeper into the cove to get out of the waves. They held each other and drifted off to sleep.

They woke up again as the tide came in and the water lapped at their feet. They sat up.

"What time is it?" Ann asked sleepily.

House reached in the small pocket of his trunks and pulled out his cell. "About four-thirty."

"Oh . . . "

"You sound disappointed."

"Our dinner reservation is at six, and by the time we get back, unpack, shower and dress, it's going to take at least an hour, plus we have to plan some time to walk to the restaurant. If we don't want to rush, we should really go back to the room now."

"I'm okay with that, why aren't you?"

"I wanted more. I wanted to ride you."

"Wow! I don't think Deborah and Burt would approve."

"I know – non-missionary position sex. Pretty wild for the 1950s."

"Hey, there's always tomorrow."

"The weather forecast is for rain."

"Then there's always next time."

For a brief moment, House surprised himself. It was the end of the summer, and if he thought there would be a next time, that meant he could see them still together next year. That was both amazing and scary to contemplate, so he changed the subject.

"By the way, I was right. I'm cold and wet and I do have sand my butt crack," House stated

"Me, too, but it was _so_ worth it. I'll never listen to pounding surf again without thinking of you making love to me."

House's face expanded into a smile. An actual smile. Of course, it could all crash and burn and then he would never hear the sound of the ocean again without feeling a sense of loss. But that was the future, and only one of many possible futures, some of which were actually not awful. Time to push that aside and enjoy the late summer day at the beach.

They wiped themselves off as best they could and put their bathing suits back on. They went and retrieved the cooler and the other tote bag, leaving the umbrella for Hale to collect, as he said he would.

They headed back to their room and showered.

House was ready first. He sat and watched TV as Ann finished. House's jaw dropped when he saw her emerge from the bedroom.

She was wearing a knee-length floral print halter dress that displayed her amble bosom to perfect effect, and hugged her waist and her butt in all the right places.

"Wow!" House exclaimed, suppressing a wolf whistle.

"I take it you like this?" Ann asked coquettishly.

"What gives you that idea? Just because I'm stepping on my tongue?"

"Thanks. I bought this when Danielle and I went shopping. I thought it was kind of a frivolous purchase at the time, seeing as how I'll never wear it to work."

"I'll say you're never wear it to the hospital! That's so hot, it would wake up every man and lesbian in the morgue!"

"Somehow, I don't think it's them that you're worried about . . . "

"Damn right! I don't want anyone checking out my woman."

"_Your_ _woman_? You gonna start dragging me around by the hair?"

"Nah. Too tough on my back to bend over like that."

"Nice. And I think you do want people checking me out. I think you just don't want them to do anything more than that."

"I'm the only one who gets to handle the merchandise."

"Actually, my merchandise was pretty well-handled before you even saw it," Ann said softly, regret creeping into her voice.

House moved over to embrace her. "That just means you need the right touch," House stated in a low voice as reached down to her face and began to caress it.

Ann leaned into his hand and closed her eyes as she rubbed against his open palm. House began to give her light kisses all over her face.

Ann pulled back. "We better get going if we don't want to lose the reservation."

House sighed in disappointment. "This food better be good, considering what I'm giving up for it."

"Not so much giving up as delaying."

"I still don't like waiting."

Ann smiled and they left.

The restaurant was elegant and they had a table out on the raised stone patio, which was right on the beach. It was good for House because he didn't have to negotiate the sand with his leg and his cane.

Although there was beef on the menu, Ann encouraged House to skip it for once and order seafood, since the restaurant was known for that. House had his own way of doing things, so his appetizer was stuffed Portobello mushroom caps, since they had a beefy taste, and swordfish, because it came as a steak.

Ann had clams fra diavolo for her appetizer and scallops with pesto sauce for her entrée.

Of course, House sampled her food without being invited.

"Why do you do that?" Ann asked as House snuck a clam from her plate.

"What?" House responded with a question of his own as he stabbed the clam with his fork and put it in his mouth.

"Take food without asking. I'd give you some, you know."

"I know. It just tastes better when it's been stolen."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know. And don't feel persecuted. I do the same thing to Wilson."

"If you really like this, why not order some for yourself?"

"It's not about that . . . "

"What's it about, then?"

"You're gong to keep at this until I tell you, aren't you?"

"You would if it were about me."

"Fine. One of the ways John used to punish me was to send me to bed without supper. When I was very young, I was usually so upset and scared, I didn't notice I was hungry. As I got older, especially when I was a teenager and I was hungry all the time, I decided to do something about it. I would wait until the bastard went to bed and sneak into the kitchen, grab something quickly and run back to my room to eat it. I not only got rid of my hunger, but I got around the S.O.B."

"Interesting."

"Please don't psychoanalyze this. It's just an old habit at this point."

"Psychoanalyze it? You were a smart kid who figured out how to get around a cruel and stupid punishment from your father. Not much more to it than that, is there? Or are you trying to tell me you've developed some sexual kinks having to do with food theft? If that's the case, I'm open to at least hearing about it or maybe trying it . . . "

House smiled slightly. "No, no fetishes involving food."

"Then why did you think I was going to go psychological on you?"

"People do."

"I'm sure your shrink does. But I'm not your shrink."

"No, but Wilson would."

"What?"

"Wilson would be all over this. He'd tell me it was some deep-seated need based on Oedipal feelings and adolescent rebellion combined with kleptomania or something."

"All because you sampled my clams?" Ann asked incredulously. "And he'd really get into all that psychobabble? I thought he was an oncologist, not a psychiatrist. Besides, what gives him the right to analyze you? Who died and made him perfect? "

"He's definitely not perfect."

"Not with three failed marriages and most likely headed for another one. If not a divorce, then another doomed relationship. Hooking up with an ex is a dumb idea. Everything that didn't work before still doesn't work, but now you're older and even less patient."

"If I said that to him, he'd let me know that he would have been happy, if I hadn't messed up his chance."

"What? I thought we already had this discussion. You didn't screw up his marriages because you were too needy. It was his fault."

"That's not what I was talking about."

"He blames you for something else?"

"He says he doesn't, but . . . "

"God, doesn't anyone you know take responsibility for their own actions, ever?"

"Well, he wasn't responsible for this, I was."

"What? What happened?"

"Three years ago, I needed to replace my team, so I had a kind of contest with all the applicants to select my new employees, sort of like 'The Apprentice.' "

"Really?"

"I'll tell you about that later. One of the people who didn't make the cut was a doctor by the name of Amber Volakis. Well, sometime during the winter after I hired the final team members, she and Wilson started dating. It was awkward."

"Because you hadn't hired her."

"More because she and I fought over Wilson."

"Excuse me?"

"Wilson was my only friend, and we had to figure out how to divide up his time between us."

"We? This was some sort of group decision between you, Wilson and Amber?"

"And Cuddy. Wilson insisted she get involved."

"An employee asks his boss for help figuring out how to divide his leisure time between his friend and his girlfriend? I'm not sure I could even formulate a comment on that."

"Anyway, one night that spring I left work and went to a bar. I was drinking pretty heavily, so I needed a ride home. I phoned Wilson and he was on call, so Amber picked up. She offered to come and get me, but I told her I'd take a cab or something. I ordered another drink, and before I knew it, she was there, trying to get me in her car to drive me home to my apartment. I refused to go with her and I left. I got on a bus and she followed me because I had forgotten my cane at the bar. Anyway, we were on the bus for a few minutes and then a garbage truck crashed into it. The bus flipped on its side, and I got a concussion. In the meantime, they took her to another hospital. She had internal injuries."

"How horrible. You said you had a concussion?"

"It affected my memory. It took some time and effort, but I remembered part of what had happened. We found out where Amber was and Wilson and I brought her back to Princeton-Plainsboro. She was sick and I couldn't figure out why. My brain knew something, but, because of the concussion, I couldn't remember what. I did finally figure it out, but I couldn't save her and she died."

"I'm sorry. What did you do mean, it took some effort?"

"I started with hypnosis. Then I took a drug to boost my memory, which gave me a heart attack. Then I had a procedure known as a deep brain stimulation. It's basically sticking electrodes into your brain and stimulating it electrically to trigger memories."

"Sounds terribly dangerous, particularly after everything that had happened to you."

"I guess. Especially since the procedure caused a seizure that widened a crack in my skull from the accident."

"Dear God. Why did you do it if it was dangerous and you were in such bad shape?"

"Wilson wanted me to. He wanted to see if I could remember something to help Amber. It didn't matter, anyway. We knew the accident damaged her kidneys. The DBS made me remember I saw her taking a drug for the flu that dialysis couldn't remove from her blood. She died from being poisoned by the drug, basically."

"How sad. I'm confused though. You said Wilson blamed you for this. Why?"

"Well, I couldn't save her, for one thing."

"Could anyone have saved her?"

"No."

"It didn't sound like it. So I don't understand how he could have thought it was your fault."

"I think he still does."

"But how can he? It's not like you were driving the truck that hit the bus."

"No."

"And you didn't give his girlfriend the pills, did you?"

No."

"You didn't want her to follow you on the bus, right?"

"Right."

"And you didn't want her to come to the bar to get you, correct?"

"I wanted Wilson. And when he wasn't there, I told her not to."

"Did you schedule Wilson to be on call that night?"

"He does the scheduling for his own department."

"And then all that stuff you did to try to remember and help her, especially that risky procedure performed on your brain. So, how could this have possibly been your fault?"

"Well, if I hadn't been drinking at the bar, the whole thing wouldn't have happened."

"Son of a bitch!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what I was told after the rape. If I hadn't been drinking, it wouldn't have happened. People are idiots, you know that, right?"

House couldn't help but smile a little when she said that, and then he became serious again. "I still . . . "

"No, it took me years of therapy to realize it wasn't my fault, and you shouldn't believe that crap, either."

"But . . . "

"But what? The drinking was something that happened that day that may have been a part of the series of events that lead to her death. Hey, you might have had a case that made you work late that night. Since you didn't, it was either Doctor Cuddy's fault for not assigning one to you, or the previous patient's fault for getting better too quickly. It was a nice day. If only it had rained, you might have gone home instead of to the bar, so I guess that would make it the atmosphere's fault. Was there a new moon? Maybe if there had been some moonlight, the garbage truck driver would have seen the bus and not hit it, so it's the moon's fault . . . "

"Now you're getting ridiculous."

"No more so than blaming a passenger for a bus accident! You know, for someone who is so intelligent, you sure have stupid friends!"

There was a pause.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"Why I was drinking . . . "

"Why does anyone ever drink? It hurts and you want to make it stop. So, you drink and you get numb, and the pain stops for a while. End of story."

"True."

"Well, you risked your life undergoing a procedure to try to save this woman. At least that meant something to him."

"If it did, he never said so . . . "

"What? You put your life in danger merely because he asked you to. It was self-sacrificing, beautiful, loving act, and he never even acknowledged it? What a horrible human being he is."

House was silent. He really didn't want to talk about this anymore. Wilson had insisted he didn't blame House, although House could tell that he did. But even if House's drinking had set everything in motion, didn't the risk he took doing the DBS mean anything? Wilson acted as though it was expected. As though Wilson thought House owed Wilson his brain or his life. Or it wasn't worth enough to Wilson to care about him.

It still hurt so much to think about it. Given the current state of their friendship, it wasn't likely to change. And that hurt even more.

Suddenly, Ann reached out and put her hand over House's hand.

"You know you don't have to steal anything from me, including clams. Whatever I have is yours. No conditions."

House felt his emotions welling up again. He looked down at their hands on the table. He slowly turned up his palm and pressed it into hers. They laced his fingers together. "Right now, the only clam I want is your bearded clam."

Ann smiled. "Just let me finish my cappuccino, okay?"

* * *

A/N: Just to let everyone know, I'm having computer problems. Thankfully, I still have internet access, so I should receive reviews, etc. I'm just having trouble uploading files, so it may take some time to post the next chapter. I've come up with a workaround, as you can see, but it's iffy and I can't promise I'll be able to do it again anytime soon. Ah, computers. Can't live with them and you can't live without them. Thanks for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Computer issues continue. But, at least I can keep writing and downloading occasionally. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

They returned to their room, and House "helped" Ann out of her dress. It was more like he almost tore it off her. In any case, their clothes wound up in a heap on the floor.

What had begun as hot and sweaty quickly transformed into comfort sex, with Ann somehow touching House in every place he needed it, which was pretty much everywhere. It took away the hurt from the discussion about Wilson and the accident. Not all of it, of course, but enough to make House feel nearly human again.

It rained the next day, as predicted, so there was no more beach sex. Ann had told the innkeeper that if the weather was rainy, she and House would be spending the day in the room. So, Hale made sure that the chambermaid cleaned the room while House and Ann were downstairs eating breakfast.

They came back to the room, stripped off their clothes and had sex all afternoon, with some napping in between. House was amazed at both his stamina and the intensity of his desire. The more he had this woman, it seemed the more he wanted her.

As evening approached, they lay in bed, recovering from their latest encounter. House's head was resting on Ann's breast, and every so often, he lightly licked her nipple. His other hand caressed her other breast, and his fingers softly brushed that nipple at random intervals.

Ann had her arms around House. One of her hands was lightly rubbing his neck and back, while the other stroked his belly.

"I don't want to have to get dressed and leave the room for dinner," House whined as he buried himself deeper into her chest.

"We don't have to," Ann replied calmly as she continued to fondle House very near his manhood.

"As much as I'm enjoying banging your brains out, I'm still gonna need some food, to keep up my energy."

"I didn't say we weren't eating. I said we weren't going out to eat."

"Another delivery?"

"Yep. I understand there's a really good Chinese place in town."

"I'll be the judge of that."

They fell silent for a moment, still touching each other. House was puzzled how Ann could get the innkeeper to be so accommodating. Hale was older, probably in his sixties, with thick gray hair and a muscular build. Even though House was not really a good judge when it came to assessing men, he supposed Hale would qualify as attractive. His hand stilled and his tongue stopped as he pondered why the innkeeper was being so very helpful.

"What is it?" Ann asked, stopping what she was doing, too.

"What?" House asked.

"You went away there for a second, when we were talking about dinner being delivered."

"Nothing. It's just . . . it's stupid."

"What?"

"Well, I'm just impressed by how much you've been able to get Hale to assist us this weekend. You know, the dinner on the balcony Friday night, helping us set up and take down the umbrella yesterday, making the dinner reservations for us last night, arranging dinner to be delivered tonight . . . "

"He's an innkeeper; his job is to make people happy."

"I'll bet. "

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Come on . . . "

"Okay. Busted. I suppose you have every right to laugh at my insecurities."

"I never found insecurities terribly funny, and especially not when a person I love has them."

"Well, it's not totally unreasonable, you know. You are a hot babe, and he is a good looking guy . . . "

"First, let me assure you that I'm already in bed with the sexiest man on the planet, who I've spent almost an entire weekend fucking, and it's been the best weekend of my life."

House looked up from Ann's chest, placing his chin between her breasts. "Really?" he asked quietly with a look of near-total vulnerability.

"God, that beautiful face," Ann whispered as she cupped his cheek. She leaned down and kissed him on his forehead, eyes, nose, and chin, and rubbed her face against the cheek that wasn't covered by her hand.

House recovered slowly from her loving assault. "You said, 'First,' " House observed. "What's second?"

Ann put her head back on the pillow and smiled sweetly. "He's not interested in me."

"How do you know?"

"When I was talking to him about our staying in the room today, he got a phone call. I heard him tell the person on the other end of the phone that he couldn't wait for them to get home."

"Well, sometimes people like a little something-something on the side."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be with me."

"You're pretty damn sexy yourself. How do you know that he wouldn't want you?"

"I'm guessing based on the fact that he called the person he was talking to 'Phillip.' "

"Oh. Well, that does explain why he's doing this for a living."

"How?"

"In rich families, the main obligation of the heirs is to marry the 'right' person and beget more heirs. If Hale wasn't inclined to do either of those things, Daddy probably wasn't inclined to find him a job with the family firm."

"So, he'd have to give up his sexuality if he wanted to be successful in the family business?"

"Not entirely. I'm sure, if he was discreet, he could get almost all he wanted on the down low."

"So, as long as he was a complete hypocrite, everything would have been just dandy."

"Yeah, other than the self-loathing."

"So you admire him."

"He gave up almost everything to be true to himself. I think that's worthy of respect. Then again, maybe the job really sucked."

Ann smiled and House put his head back down on her chest. She held him just a little bit closer than before.

They dozed for a while, until a knock on the door woke them up. They opened it to find a tray containing the Chinese food, and paper plates, plastic utensils, wooden chopsticks, napkins, and more sparkling water and Dog Fish Head.

They still didn't want to get dressed, so they ate in the room, feeding each other with the chopsticks and licking up any food or sauce that landed on each other's bodies.

When they were cleaning up and putting the empty cartons and used plates back on the tray, House a found a cigar, matches and a guillotine cutter.

It was dark by then, so they decided to go out on the balcony. The rain had stopped and it was warm enough that they didn't need their clothes. They wiped off one of the chairs and Ann sat on House's lap (on his good leg). They passed the cigar between them and talked.

_God, is there anything sexier than sharing a cigar with a beautiful, naked woman while she sits on your lap?_ House thought. Mount Gregory seemed to agree with him as they finished the cigar and Ann straddled his crotch. It wasn't exactly riding him on the beach, but House supposed it was close enough for now. And it gave them an excuse to come back.

At this point, House didn't care if it made him a sissy, he was hopeful. He felt, for the first time in a damn long time, that it mattered to more than just his patients that he get up tomorrow. It mattered to the woman he loved, and it mattered to _him_.

They put a large towel down on the sheets to cover the spunk and slept a blissful sleep.

Since checkout time was eleven, and they were too tired to wake up early, there was no sex the following morning. They showered, dressed, ate breakfast and packed the car. They were on the road by eleven thirty.

The traffic was pretty bad, and Ann insisted they stop three times. She said it was because she had to pee, but House knew her bladder hadn't shrunk two sizes over the weekend. So, he assumed it was because she was concerned about his leg and wanted him to have the chance to get out and stretch it.

It was a small fig leaf for his dignity, but House appreciated it. Of course, if he said anything like that, he would ruin it. Besides, expressing gratitude wasn't exactly his strong suite. Most likely because he hadn't had a lot to be thankful for until recently. He vowed to figure out a way to let Ann know just how much it all meant to him.

With the traffic and stops, they got home about at four. They spent the evening doing laundry, making dinner from something Ann had cooked earlier and defrosted from her freezer and had the sex they had missed that morning. They reluctantly returned to work the next day.

The month of September passed quickly. They had no problem settling in to their old routine, with two small changes – they spent Monday night at House's apartment and Wednesday night at Ann's house. Neither of them wanted to sleep alone anymore, but with maintaining the two places, and all the switching around, it gave them the illusion that they still weren't really living together, which was what they both seemed to want.

The thought occured to Ann that this arrangement might not work very well when the weather got bad in the coming winter, but that was far enough away not to deal with it now. She got a good price on a generator left over from the previous winter at a large home improvement store, had it hooked up to come on if the power went out, and made sure there was enough propane for several days. She stocked up her pantry and her basement freezer, winterized both of their cars, and put it out of her mind.

October found the temperatures dropping a bit, especially at night, which meant House and Ann were forced to sleep a little closer together. Neither one of them complained.

Ann surprised House with a getaway to the Berkshires on Columbus Day weekend. House had been to Boston more times than he could remember, but he was unfamiliar with western Massachusetts. Ann kept calling it "God's Country," and House didn't know why until he got there.

They stayed at an inn in a town at the foothills of the mountains, and House finally understood why people would bother to go there just for the scenery. The town was like something out of a painting, with a small church with a white spire, a neo-classical town hall, and large, eighteenth-century white houses with black shutters along the town square. And the fall foliage was simply amazing – the brightest yellows, the deepest oranges and the most fiery reds against a bright blue sky. The color almost hurt it was so beautiful.

"California has nothing compared to this," Ann remarked as they sat on a bench in the common, looking at all the trees.

"You realize that in three months' time, the trees will be bare and no one will be able to sit on these benches because they don't want to risk frost-bite climbing through six-foot high drifts in the gale-force winds that bring the temperature, with wind-chill, down to twenty-five below zero," House countered. "They don't have anything like _that_ in California, either."

"They do in the mountains," Ann argued.

"Yeah, and unless you're the Donner Party, you're not going to go there then. People actually live here year-round. Voluntarily."

"People who live in New England are hardy souls. Not like the wimps who live in the lower mid-Atlantic states."

"Hey, you're one of those 'wimps' now. Besides, I doubt the people in Greenwich are toughing it out like the pioneers."

"Anyone who lives near the Long Island Sound doesn't count. It's so mild, there's never snow on the ground for more than two days. They don't even get hurricanes very often. Even the people in Florida are tougher than that."

"Well, now that we've insulted everyone on the Eastern seaboard and the West Coast, why don't we continue our stroll?"

Before they left, Ann had a passer-by take a picture of the two of them sitting on the bench, with the trees as the backdrop. She put it in a frame and gave it to House, who, to the surprise of nearly everyone, put it on his desk at work.

No one on his team could get over how happy he looked in the photo, with the exception of Chase, who didn't even notice it because he was too busy sending and receiving texts and laughing, or on his computer sending and receiving e-mails. Even House's sarcasm couldn't get Chase to focus on the cases. The only way House stopped the distraction was to close Chase's laptop and confiscate his phone during the differentials.

Taub, Thirteen and Foreman continued to complain that Chase wasn't paying attention during patient histories and tests because he was texting, but House didn't have the inclination to be Chase's full-time nanny, so he told the team to deal with it.

House was still curious who Chase was in contact with. When Ann told him she had found out from her boss that Danielle had gotten a job with Ann's company, but that Ann was having a hard time reaching her to congratulate her and find out when she was moving to Princeton, he figured it out. It was obvious since Chase just happened to have all the details.

"So, you're in constant contact with The Chubby Girl?" House mocked as he kept Chase in his office after sending the rest of the team off to do tests on their latest patient.

"First off," Chase growled in reply, "I don't think Ann would like you to refer to her friend Danielle as 'The Chubby Girl.' Second, it's none of your business who I text on my own phone."

"It is when it interferes with your job."

"It doesn't interfere with my job."

"That's not what the other members of the team say."

"Foreman is jealous because he has no life, Hadley is jealous because she has no real relationships and Taub is just frustrated because there's no one left on the nursing staff who will sleep with him except Jeffrey."

"Still, you seem to know an awful lot about what is going on with her."

"She's a friend and she's moving here. Excuse me if I find that to be a positive thing."

"With the magic of cyberspace, who needs her to be here? Especially as often as you two contact each other. Unless you plan on banging her. No one has a cock long enough to reach from Jersey to Texas."

"Um, thanks for the visual on that. And, no, I don't plan on sleeping with her. It would just be nice to see her in person once in a while."

"Nice, huh? Don't you mean 'nasty,' as in 'doing the nasty'?"

"God, will you just let go of this and move on? It's none of your Goddamn business!"

House was about to argue the point when Chase stormed out of his office and headed down the hallway. He disappeared into the stairwell, knowing House couldn't follow him there. Well, House would simply have to observe things when Danielle arrived.

She moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Trenton the first weekend of November. House knew this because Chase had taken that Friday off, and, of course, Chase and Ann were helping. Luckily, the company had decided to pay for the move, so it was just a question of settling Danielle's things into the apartment.

House decided to "help," too. Not because he could do any heavy lifting, but because he figured he'd learn a lot. For example, helping Danielle put away her books would allow him to see what she was interested in. (And if she didn't have any books, that would tell him something else).

It would also provide the chance to see Chase interacting with her, and that would give him clues where their relationship was or where it might be going. How Chase felt about the fat girl and why he felt that way were two puzzles that House was determined to solve.

All of Danielle's things were delivered to the apartment on Friday, but she stayed with Ann Friday night because very little of her furniture was set up, including her bed. Of course, Chase joined them for dinner, so House was forced to put on a big show about how upset he was at Chase being there. Despite his bluster, he was actually doing reconnaissance.

Like Chase had noticed several weeks ago with House and Ann, House saw that Chase seemed to touch Danielle a lot. It wasn't really sexual – a hand on the arm or the back, mostly, or moving her hair out of her face. House wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Chase brush Danielle's hands a few times when he handed her something. Danielle reciprocated, doing many of the same things to Chase.

At one point, Ann and House had left the living room to go in and check on dinner in the kitchen. (House had actually gone with Ann for a quick make-out session.) When they returned, Chase and Danielle were laughing about something, and sitting very closely together, House noticed. They jumped away from each other slightly as House and Ann entered the room, or so it seemed to House.

Chase left after dinner, promising to return early tomorrow for breakfast, much to House's feigned annoyance. Danielle went to bed, citing fatigue from her trip and the need for her to be rested for tomorrow.

House and Ann got ready and lay in bed together, talking.

Never one to be subtle if he could avoid it, House asked Ann, "So, do you think Chase and Danielle are doing it?"

Ann smiled. "Honestly, I don't know."

"They sure were touchy-feely tonight."

"I guess."

"And did you see them jump apart when we came into the living room?"

"Not really . . . "

"Am I bugging you with this discussion?"

"No, um, maybe . . . "

"Why?"

"It's none of our business, for one thing."

"Well, it's kind of our business – she's a friend of yours and he's my employee."

"No, that makes it _of_ _interest_ to us, it doesn't make it our _business_."

"Well, quite honestly, you don't even seem that interested."

"I'm actually concerned."

"About what?"

"Well, it's not a secret that Robert is not exactly fond of people who are large . . . "

"Robert?"

"It's what Danielle calls him."

"Well, _I _call him Chase."

"As you pointed out, he's one of your employees. He doesn't work with me. So, I know him on a personal basis, hence the first name."

"Alright, alright. Just get back to the 'large people' stuff."

"As I was saying, he's not known for liking those who are carrying some extra weight."

"Uh-huh."

"And Danielle isn't exactly petite."

"That's for sure."

"Hey, she's one of my best friends and I love her exactly the way she is."

"Fine, fine. You're noble and the rest of humanity is shallow and judges everyone unfairly based on appearance. Get on with it."

"Well, if it's just a friendship, that's great. I mean, who couldn't use another friend, right?"

"_But_ . . . "

"But if he's playing with her in some way, or leading her to conclude things he doesn't feel . . . "

"I get that would suck for your friend, so it would suck for you, but why would he do that? If he isn't attracted to her, why would he manipulate her to get into her pants?"

"That's a good point, I guess."

"Especially since he could probably get pretty much any non-lesbian woman he wanted, and quite a few men, if he swung that way."

"So are you saying you think he's actually attracted to her?"

"I guess."

"But I thought he didn't like . . . people of size."

"Are you kidding? As far as I know, he hates them. Hell, I'm nicer to fatties than he is, and I'm not nice to anyone."

"You're pretty nice to me."

"That's because you give me lots of sex."

"That's the only reason?"

"Well, there may be a _couple_ of others . . . "

Ann smiled. "So, you think I shouldn't be concerned about this?"

"I don't know. I just know that Chase has no reason to jerk her around. Whether he knows his own mind about it, on the other hand . . . "

"So, he'd hurt her unintentionally rather than intentionally?"

"If he did hurt her, yeah."

"Well, that's comforting. Not."

"Hey, you're not her mother. She's a good friend, but you have to let her make mistakes. She seems reasonably intelligent and she doesn't seem naïve. I think she can handle it."

"I know. It's just that she took such good care of me after the rape. I want to make sure she's okay, too."

"But you can't protect her. Certainly not from her own choices."

"You're right."

"As always."

"You're smug, you know that? It's a good thing you have the goods to back it up."

"Speaking of having the goods . . . "

House pulled Ann closer to him and she could feel his erection against her thigh.

"All this talk of them doing it has made me kind of hot," Ann admitted.

"Hey, don't shrink the wood by bringing up the wombat having sex. Ugh."

"Sorry. Let's see if I can make him perk up again."

Ann reached over to House's cock and began to stroke it. It didn't take long for him to become fully erect.

"There's my boy," Ann said as she bent down and gave his cock a big, sloppy kiss.

Much to House's surprise, Ann started licking. She started at the base of his cock and brought her tongue along the underside. She then did the same with the top. She gently pulled back his foreskin and began to circle her tongue around the tip.

Alarm bells were going off in what was left of the increasingly small portion of House's brain that was still capable of rational thought. He had no idea if she was able to do anything like this because of the assault. And he had no idea if it would cause her any further trauma.

Her movements quickened and deepened. She took him into her mouth and began to slide down his cock. House had never had a hooker give him a blow job. He was afraid of catching something if it was bareback, and there wasn't much point to it with a condom. So, it had been years since House had anything even close to this being done to him. What was left of his rational mind disappeared with the intensely pleasurable sensations he was now experiencing.

Ann had taken all of House into her mouth and down into her throat. She was sliding back and forth and giving him the most amazing stimulation. She drew her tongue along the bottom of his cock as she pulled him inside her mouth and closed her lips in a tight circle around him as she withdrew.

It was incredible and House came quickly since he was not used to it. Ann swallowed everything he ejaculated.

House lay on the bed, riding on a cloud of the endorphins that took him to a pain-free, blissful place. He closed his eyes and sighed.

After a few moments, he began to come down from his high. The thought entered his head that it was time to reciprocate. Suddenly, he felt movement on the bed, or, rather, he felt something move off the bed.

He saw Ann bolt for the bathroom. He thought it was odd she got up so quickly. Intrigued, he got up and followed her. He found her over the toilet, throwing up.

He quickly checked the contents of the toilet. It was cloudy and thick, and it took only a couple of seconds for House to realize it was his semen.

Ann saw looked up from the floor of the bathroom. "Oh, God."

House was stunned. He should have listened to those alarm bells and stopped her. He was such a selfish idiot. He didn't know what to say to her; an apology would sound lame and completely insincere.

"I'm going to go sleep in the other guest room," Ann said quietly.

"Don't," House replied. "I'll just leave now."

"Okay," Ann responded.

He went into the bedroom and got dressed. She waited until he left to go back to bed. As she crawled in she heard his car pull out of the driveway. She started to cry.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, but the OCs are all mine!

House didn't help with Danielle's move that weekend. He felt so guilty he didn't think he could look Ann in the eyes. Besides, he was just a useless cripple, and an idiot. And they had Chase to do whatever heavy lifting they needed.

House stayed at his apartment the rest of the weekend. He figured Ann wanted nothing to do with him, and, if she decided at some point to forgive him, it would be up to her to contact him. So, he spent the weekend drinking too much bourbon, beating himself up for his selfishness and trying not to cry. He did succeed in not crying, with the help of the booze. And he was more miserable than he had ever been.

On Monday, he got a case that kept him busy most of the week. He had a glimmer of hope that he would see Ann on the nights she would usually stay at his apartment, but that died each night when he didn't hear from her.

The case was solved by Friday morning, and he spent a terrible day in the clinic. Cold and flu season was just starting, and he really didn't want to get sick from all the germs he was being exposed to. That would be all he needed to take his misery over the top.

Friday night was the pits. He had been in pain all week. Obviously, there was the emotional pain. And his leg was worse - he supposed because he was no longer getting endorphins from sex. But the rest of him hurt, too. His shoulders and right arm felt like they were on fire every time he walked with the cane. His back and his left leg ached. His neck was giving him so much pain, it was practically immobile. At least it was November and he'd put the bike away for the season because there was no way he'd get on it with his neck like this. Even his feet hurt. Every night when he'd get home from work and take off his sneakers, they'd just throb.

House felt like he'd been pummeled. Certainly worse than when Cuddy had made him walk up four flights of stairs or used the tripwire on him. Or when Lucas had loosened the grab bar and he fell in the tub, or when Lucas tripped him. He thought it felt even worse than after the bus accident. But, that couldn't be right, could it? Especially since he had suffered no actual physical trauma.

It didn't take long for House the Diagnostician to figure out that all of his physical symptoms other than his leg were most likely caused by depression. And the worse part was, he saw no way to relieve it.

He couldn't call Wilson to cry on his shoulder. He'd effectively burned that bridge. There were no more drugs, either. He couldn't even take solace in his piano. It made him think of the times Ann had sat on the bench next to him, listening to him play. About the only comforts he had left were more bourbon and self-pity.

He had certainly known more than his fair share of pain, both physical and emotional. The last year and a half had been brutal, what with Mayfield and the detox, his trying to manage his leg pain without narcotics, and the betrayals of both Cuddy and Wilson. Heck, even Alvie leaving to go back to Arizona had hurt.

But none of that pain was even close to this. This hurt even worse than when Stacy left him. The first time, he had been so angry with her about what she did to his leg that he was able to blot out a lot of the pain of losing her. The second time, he had made the choice to walk away because he knew that it would have eventually fallen apart again, so he took some small comfort in doing the right thing.

This time was different. He had allowed himself to hope that things would actually work. And he was the one who had screwed it up. He went to bed Friday night not really wanting to wake up Saturday morning.

He stayed in bed until noon. What was the point of getting up, anyway? It was just going to hurt. His bladder and hunger forced his hand, so he got up to pee and dragged a bowl of cereal into the living room. He ate it while watched TV he had no interest in.

The whole scene was so pathetic, he almost laughed. But he didn't dare. He knew he was so close to losing it that what started out as laughter could very well end up as sobbing. And, if he started crying, he wasn't sure when he would stop.

When he was finished with his crappy breakfast, he put the used bowl on the table and began to channel surf. Suddenly, he heard a knock. He limped to the door, checked the peephole and saw it was Ann. He let her in.

She looked at him for a good minute. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I should have called."

"It's okay," he responded.

"I'm just here to get my stuff."

House moved out of her way and went back to sit in the living room.

Ann lingered in the doorway between the hall and the living room, as though she wanted to say something. Despite his brain telling him he was a moron to have any expectations, his heart felt the tiniest bit of anticipation.

"Listen," she began, "I know it doesn't mean anything, certainly not at this point, but I want you to know how really sorry I am about last Saturday night."

_Sorry?_ House thought. _What the hell is_ she _sorry about_?

She continued, "I know I shouldn't have tried to do what I did. I probably wasn't ready. I'm not sure if I'll ever be."

House was still completely confused. He decided that it was better to see where she was going with this, so at least he could respond in a coherent fashion.

"You know the ironic part?" She asked with a rueful smile. "I was trying to show you how much I love you, and I wound up rejecting you."

House's heart leapt in his chest. She used the word "love" instead of "loved." Was the damage he had caused repairable? He wouldn't know unless he could figure out what she meant. "When did you reject me?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ann replied. "I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have."

Now House was beyond confused and had moved into totally baffled. "I don't have a clue what you are talking about right now. Please tell me."

"When I was sick," Ann looked down at the floor, her voice lowered. "I don't think you can reject a man any more explicitly than losing his semen like that."

"What? Who told you that?"

"Well, my ex, for one."

"Your ex is an idiot."

"What?"

"Did you intend to barf my stuff?"

"No. I wanted to swallow it."

"But you couldn't. Let me guess – it reminded you of the rape."

"Yes."

"So, how could that be a rejection of me?"

"You mean you didn't think that?"

"Of course not."

"Then why did you leave? Why haven't you come to see me or called me for a whole week?"

"I thought I hurt you."

"What?"

"I thought the . . . I thought it reminded you of the rape. I thought you were mad at me for being so selfish not to consider your feelings. I was waiting for you to decide if you wanted to forgive me."

"But I'm the one who hurt _you_. I really didn't mean it. Doing it wasn't like the rape at all. For one thing, you're not circumcised and they were. And you were letting me set the pace and control things, not shoving your dick in my mouth again and again, drowning me with cum and laughing when I choked and gagged."

"Dear God." House moved quickly over to her and pulled her into his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"I mean about the rape. I had no idea."

"I don't like to talk about it. It was pretty humiliating."

"Bastards," House could feel his anger rising. "No one hurts someone I love like that."

"Love? You still love me?"

"With all my heart, Annie. Do you still love me?"

"No."

"No?"

"I adore you, Greg."

House pulled her to the couch and his lips found hers. They kissed each other intensely for a good five minutes. House was the first one to pull away. "I haven't showered or brushed my teeth since early yesterday morning. I'm sorry I stink."

"I hadn't noticed. But, now that you mention it . . . "

House's mouth turned up slightly. "I'm going to hit the shower. Are you going to be here when I get out?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

House went into his room, took off his sleep clothes and left them in the pile that had been accumulating in his room for a while. He took a long, hot shower, wondering if Ann would join him. She didn't, but that was okay.

When House emerged from the shower, he brushed his teeth. He went to his room to get dressed and noticed that all the dirty clothes were gone. He put on some jeans, a t-shirt and a button down over it. He found Ann sitting in the living room.

House was about to ask about his clothes when Ann said," I picked up your laundry and put it in my car. I'm assuming you need to use my washing machine."

"Yes, and I need some other things . . ."

Ann smiled. "I had invited Danielle and Robert over for dinner. I called them while you were in the bathroom and told them I needed to cancel. I hope you don't mind. I just don't think I can get through the evening without jumping your bones, and I figured you didn't want to have sex in front of one of your employees."

It was House's turn to smile.

No matter what they did that evening, from driving back to Ann's house, to loading the washing machine, to eating dinner and cleaning up, to putting clothes in the dryer, they simply couldn't stop touching each other. They were not only making up for being apart for a week, they were reconnecting after a brutally painful period of separation.

They both vowed to themselves that something like this would never happen again. No more misunderstandings based on assumptions. And no walking away until they talked things out, or at the very least understood what was going on.

Even though it was early, they went to bed right after dinner. House was in bed first, waiting for her. _God, did anything feel better than wanting to do this woman? Well, other than doing her_, House thought.

Ann came out of the bathroom wearing only a smile. House opened his arms and she rushed across the room and almost jumped into them. She hugged him tightly and he returned it.

"I've missed you – and this – so much," Ann murmured. "When I thought we'd never be together again . . . "

"I know," House said as pulled back to look into her face. He began to stoke her hair. "If you hadn't come back . . . "

House closed his eyes as his hand rested on her back. Ann saw the pain. She began to kiss him all over his face, softly and slowly. She heard a ragged sigh.

"Sorry," he said, taking in another, more steady breath. "It's just been such a painful week."

"I know. It hurt me, too.

"I mean physically as well as emotionally."

"What? Did someone hurt you? Did Lucas or Doctor Cuddy come after you? "

"No."

"Then how . . . ?"

"Just because . . . " House hesitated. He'd never admitted to anyone that his body gave him so much pain, or that his emotions affected his pain levels. Well, if they were going to avoid misunderstandings, and he was really going to get close to her, he had no choice but to tell her. "My body hurts a lot, anyway. In addition to my leg, the arm that I use for my cane hurts, along with my shoulders. My back gives me trouble, and so does my neck. My left leg can be sore because I use it too much when my right leg is really bad. Most of the time, my feet don't bother me, but for some reason, they did this week. I think I was in pain because I was so depressed."

"Wow. You actually functioned for an entire week hurting that much?"

"Depends on how you define 'function.' I was able to do my job."

"But not much more?"

"I didn't feel like doing anything else. Thinking that you've destroyed the best relationship you ever had will do that to a person."

"Is there any part of you that _doesn't_ hurt?"

House thought for a moment. "My nose. I think my nose is okay. Oh, and this." House pressed his erection into Ann's leg.

"Before we do anything about that, will you let me do something about the rest of your body?"

"Okay," House agreed. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, you know how I love the Berkshires, right?"

"Yes . . . "

"Well there is this place there that teaches all kinds of alternative stuff - and don't roll your eyes - including massage. I took a few courses there."

"And you've been holding out on me?"

"Well, it's not like you shared about your pain."

"Fair enough."

"Lay down on your stomach."

House complied. He felt hands working into his neck and shoulders.

"My God, your knots have knots."

"I told you it was a bad week."

"Stop talking and try to relax."

House was about to come back with some witty remark, except the hands working his shoulders seemed to be doing some good. A lot of good, in fact. He felt his aching muscles gradually relax. By then, Ann had moved to his left arm. He wasn't in much pain there, but it felt so good, he wasn't about to stop her.

She proceeded to his very sore right arm, and, before he knew it, it was feeling much better. She then gave his back the treatment, and he felt like he was starting to dissolve, it felt so good. She proceeded on to his butt and the back of his legs. He was drifting away at this point.

House, as an atheist, didn't believe in heaven. But if he had, it would have felt like what she was doing to his feet. All the soreness of his week was gone in a few moments. She told him to flip over on to his back. She worked her way up his legs. She hesitated only when she got to his scar. Although she had seen him knead the muscle pretty hard, she didn't think that someone else doing that would be a good idea. So, she massaged him very gently there.

She skipped over his stiffening cock and brought her hands lightly up his abdomen and chest. She had him move down the bed so she could get between his head and the headboard. She set to work on his neck. House wasn't completely sure because he was in such a happy state, but he thought he might be so relaxed he was drooling. All he knew was that his neck hadn't felt this loose in he didn't know how long.

She finished with a scalp massage. The only part of his body that had any tension in it whatsoever was between his legs.

Sensing his inability to move, Ann straddled his hips. He felt her wetness as she had him glide along her channel. She spread her legs as wide as she could and eased him inside her.

House's cock was so big it filled her completely. She knew she would have to move eventually, but she loved the feeling so much that she spent a few moments grinding her pelvis against him, just so she could keep him inside a little bit longer.

She began to ride him, and as his cock went inside her it hit her in the right spot each time. Her clit was receiving some incredible stimulation as well. It was her turn to dissolve as the pleasure kept increasing inside her.

"Oh, Ggrreeggg!" she cried out as her orgasm hit. The waves of pleasure overtook her.

House had been ready since sometime during the massage and between the hip grinding and the beautiful naked woman riding him and climaxing all around him, he could no longer hold back himself. His balls released their contents deep inside Ann as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms he had ever felt.

When he came back to his senses, Ann was lying on top of him and he was still inside her. He moved to pull himself out, and she squeezed him with her muscles.

"Please stay," she asked in the softest of voices.

House honored her request and didn't move until he was soft enough to slip out of her. Ann rolled on to her side next to him. But she didn't move away, as House expected. Both of their bodies maintained contact from their foreheads all the way down to their toes.

There was nothing more to be said or done. They had each other now, and nothing else mattered.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Don't Own House but the OCs are all mine!

Tuesday was Veteran's Day and also Ann's birthday. Since last week was lost (and, thankfully, over) House had really no time to prepare. She was due at his apartment, so he decided he would make her a special dinner. Luckily, his work complied. He had no case that week, and was working in the clinic.

Ordinarily, the clinic kept him busier than a case did. But, to his astonishment, Brenda seemed to be helping him. Several times, she enabled him to duck into one of the empty exam rooms to make arrangements on both Monday and Tuesday.

This was really helpful, since Cuddy was on the warpath. House didn't know why she was so bitchy – maybe her job was giving her problems, or maybe Rachel was sick, or maybe Lucas had gone from two minutes to one minute. House no longer cared. All he knew was that Cuddy had actually become the screeching harpy he once accused her of being, and when he was in physical proximity, he was her target.

What he also didn't understand was why Brenda was being so helpful. He knew Brenda was direct and would tell him if he asked her, so he did, just before he left for lunch on Monday.

"Well," Brenda replied. "It's certainly not because of _you_."

House smiled inwardly. "Well, why, then?"

"Your girlfriend. She gets it."

"Care to elaborate?"

"She understands how this hospital is actually run and who actually runs it. She's designing the patient system to support the nursing and nursing tech staff."

"Really?"

"If you ever went to a board meeting you would see how awesome she is. I remember one meeting I attended. She explained the system was primarily to support the nurses. That pompous ass Melville asked why it wasn't primarily for the doctors, who, he said, were more important, after all. She pointed out that eighty percent of the patient care is provided by the nurses. And she said, 'Anyone who's either worked in a hospital or been a patient in one figures out after about ten minutes that if the nurses ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.' And then she told him that if the system was designed for people with Associate's, Bachelor's and Master's Degrees, surely someone who had been through medical school and had done an internship, residency and became certified in a medical specialty could handle it. The look on Melville's face . . . " Brenda was actually smiling.

"She is something, isn't she?" House asked proudly.

"Why she'd want to be with you, I have no idea, but if it makes her happy . . . "

"And satisfied."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Anyway, make her birthday a good one."

"I intend to," House responded as he gave Brenda his most lecherous look.

She gave him an exasperated sigh and went back to the desk.

Although Brenda would complain to anyone who would listen what an ass House was, if she was completely honest with herself, he wasn't that bad. And she hadn't been lying when she told House that she was impressed with Ann Mueller. So, Brenda reasoned, if Ann was with House, there must be something there that was worthwhile.

At least she always knew where she stood with him. Doctor Wilson, for example was all smiles and politeness and charm, but what was really going on with him? Three failed marriages didn't speak well for his ability to respect women. Besides, everyone knew he was a serial cheater.

And his ex-wife-current-girlfriend was no prize, either. Brenda had seen her try to throw one of her nurses under the bus when there was a screw-up with a clinic patient. Brenda simply didn't trust Doctor Carr at all after that. If a person's character was judged by the company they kept, Doctor Wilson was not the good guy he wanted everyone to think he was.

And Doctor Cuddy, who Brenda had once respected, had sunk very low in her estimation. Lucas was nothing more than a creep and a thug, and Brenda didn't understand why Doctor Cuddy couldn't see that. Maybe she wasn't nearly as perceptive as Brenda had thought she was.

Brenda had always known that House was the best doctor in the hospital by a country mile. All her musings had lead her to conclude that House was also one of the better people who worked in the hospital, too. _Who'd have thought . . ._ Brenda said to herself as she watched him leave for lunch.

House managed to sneak out of the clinic an hour early on Tuesday, again with Brenda covering for him.

He had gone out at lunch to get the rest of the items for the dinner he was preparing, so he went home to cook. He had decided not to spend money on gifts, but rather give her things he could do for her. Making dinner was one of those things.

He'd done some research to make sure all the courses for dinner had some reputation, if not a scientific basis, for being a form of aphrodisiac. So, for the appetizer he made fried oysters, for the entrée chicken with a garlic, basil, avocado sauce, for the vegetable asparagus with almonds, and chocolate covered bananas for dessert.

He had wanted to burn a CD with some of her favorite music, but he didn't have time. So, he borrowed some of Ann's Bach cello suites CDs. It was romantic, in a baroque sort of way. It was certainly deeply emotional. And he knew Ann loved the music.

Luckily, he'd been working for a while on what he considered Ann's present. It wasn't easy since he didn't have a lot of time alone with his piano anymore. Ironically, last week had been the most time he'd spent by himself in his apartment since he first left Wilson's condo, yet he couldn't touch the piano because it reminded him of her.

Writing some music for Ann made him think of Cuddy's Serenade. He still had the sheet music for that buried somewhere. He'd poured his heart into that piece. How would Cuddy have reacted? Would she have even liked it? Or would she have called him a son of a bitch or booby-trapped his office again? And eventually it just would have become another thing for Lucas to mock him with. He was so glad he'd never given it to her.

The anticipation of playing the music he'd composed for Ann felt like those Christmases when he was very young and tried to draw pictures as a present for John. John would mock them, of course. At least House had the expectation that Ann would be kind, even if she hated what he'd written for her. But, like an eager five-year-old, he still wanted her to like it.

Ann was usually home by five-thirty, but Brenda had told House she would try to keep Ann a little later with questions about the computer system. It was six-fifteen when Ann came through the door. Every thing was ready.

She walked into to hear the CD playing, and saw a dozen red roses on the coffee table. She hung up her coat and went in to look at them. Ann had never liked cut flowers since her father's funeral, but these were nothing like the ones at the funeral parlor. They were deep red, and they were so fragrant, their scent filled the room. And there were two place settings on the table as well, along with a pitcher of ice water.

House brought the first course out to her just as she finished checking out the flowers.

"Dinner is served," he informed her, indicating that she should sit on the couch.

After he put the serving plate down, she kissed him. "This is so beautiful."

House was about to explain to her that he didn't have time to get her anything good, and he hoped she would settle for what he was trying to do for her. Suddenly, a voice in his head told him to stop. What he was doing for her wasn't necessarily expensive, but it didn't need to be.

Other than not growing the roses, he had made everything for her himself tonight. Why listen to all the programming he had received through the years and automatically assume it was inadequate? The least he could do was keep his mouth shut and let her decide for herself.

"Thanks," he responded. "Happy Birthday."

They sat down on the couch and ate the oysters. They were perfectly fried. House could tell Ann enjoyed them by the happy noises she was making while she chewed.

"Delicious," Ann declared as he took away the empty serving plate. He took the pitcher to the kitchen to refill it and returned with it. He then went back to the kitchen to retrieve the entrée and the vegetable.

"You're not having any beer or bourbon tonight," Ann observed as House placed the next two dishes on the coffee table.

"Nope," House responded.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, it seems kind of selfish to partake when you can't."

"You know that doesn't bother me."

"Yeah, but this is your birthday. I don't need to be waving it in your face. Besides, I want to keep my wits about me for any adult activities later."

"Good answer. This is also delicious, by the way."

"Thanks."

"When did you have time to do all this? I thought you had clinic duty the past couple of days."

"I did. But Brenda helped me."

"Nurse Brenda? I thought she hated your guts."

"She does. But, apparently, she respects you."

"Really?"

"You impressed her at a board meeting when you said that the patient software was designed for the nurses because they do about 80 per cent of patient care. She particularly enjoyed how you handled Melville."

"Melville? What an idiot! He actually though that all I did was write programming code. I had to explain to him that if you want to survive in the computer industry and be able to charge five hundred dollars per hour, you better be giving your customers a hell of a lot more than what some computer people in India can do for ten dollars an hour. He honestly didn't get that what I do is create a system based on how a hospital actually works, and hopefully, improves it. Why bother to computerize things if they work only as well as your paper system, or, worse than it did?"

House honestly didn't care about things like management systems. He was not the hospital administrator, luckily for both him and for the hospital. What he did care about was the fire in Ann's eyes when she talked about her work and the contribution she made.

It made House remember Tom's comment about how Tom would listen to Ann sing music he hated just because she looked so happy when she was doing it. There was something about seeing Ann happy that made House happy, too.

"I'm boring you, aren't I?" she asked.

"First of all, it's your birthday, so you get to bore people if you want. Second, it doesn't bore me. You get so sexy when you get all fired up."

Ann blushed slightly. "However, what I get excited about is pretty lame . . . "

"It's no worse than my being on the edge of my seat waiting for MRI results."

"I guess we all need to feel like what we do is important, like in your case it is, and in my case, not so much."

"What you do is important. You know the statistics on how many fewer bad outcomes occur in hospitals with good patient filing and tracking systems. That saves lawsuits, hence time and money. And, in some cases, it actually saves the lives of people who would die as a result of mistakes. See, I'm not an idiot like Melville."

Ann smiled. "And, of course, your motive for singing my praises is purely professional respect. There's no thought of stroking my ego now so we'll be stroking different parts of each other later . . . "

House simply smiled slyly.

They had finished the second course. House cleared away the used dishes and utensils. He brought them back to the kitchen and returned with fresh plates, flatware and dessert.

"Hmm," Ann commented. "Chocolate and bananas. And before that asparagus, almonds, avocado, basil, garlic and oysters. Is there some sort of theme for tonight's menu? Aren't all these foods supposed to be aphrodisiacs?"

"Busted."

They ate their dessert and continued talking about, as Ann described it, "the various personalities" at the hospital, or as House called them, "the sundry idiots."

Ann wanted to help with clean up, but House made her stay in the living room. He piled the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, added the detergent and rinse agent, turned it on and headed back to the living room. All the back and forth was starting to bother his leg, but he wasn't too concerned because he figured he could sit down at the piano for a while.

He had written down the music he had composed for her, but, knowing that she read music, he didn't want to give it to her beforehand and spoil the surprise. So, he brought out a chilled bottle of sparkling water and two glasses and set it down on the coffee table. He poured Ann a glass and went to sit at the piano.

She was sitting on the couch and looking at him expectantly. "Are you going to give me my own private concert? You know what usually happens when you do that."

"Well, if you can wait a few minutes and actually listen to what I'm playing instead of just being a groupie and jumping my bones, I'd appreciate it," House told her with mock sarcasm.

Ann smiled and waited.

House took a deep breath and began. He was a little nervous at first, but as he became lost in the music, he calmed down and let it take him away.

Ann listened intently. She tried to identify what House was playing. With her background and education, she was familiar with most music from Gregorian chants pretty much through the 1980s. At first, she just assumed it was something she happened not to know. As she continued to focus on it, she began to realize she didn't know it because no one had ever heard it before. It was an original piece of music, and since it was her birthday, she concluded that House had written the music especially for her.

The idea of having someone write music for her was thrilling in and of itself. And the music itself was wonderful – full of things that meant something to her and deeply moving at the same time. And then there was House playing it for her – his eyes closed in concentration and his fingers almost caressing the keys. She became overwhelmed with emotion.

Ann was not a person who cried very much. Even during her attack, she had not cried, even as she begged her attackers to stop. She hadn't cried at all during their court appearances and trials. She knew that made her a less sympathetic victim, bit she just didn't have it in her. She hadn't even cried at her father's funeral. No doubt this was another thing that drove a wedge between her and her mother, who wept copiously, but Ann just couldn't do it. Even when House had left her that night and she thought he was angry and that she might never be with him again, she had only cried for a few minutes.

So, when House was finished and he opened is eyes to look at her, he was genuinely surprised to find her with tears streaming down her face. Since dealing with emotion wasn't exactly his forte, he wasn't sure what to do. He got up carefully, moved over the sofa and sat down next to her.

Ann looked in his eyes for a moment and then she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He slid his arms around her waist and she softly sobbed.

After a few minutes she stopped and pulled away from him a little. House looked into her tear-soaked face and thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"This was supposed to make you happy," he stated softly.

"It did,' she sniffled. "I'm just ass-backwards when it comes to expressing emotions sometimes."

"So, you laugh at funerals?"

"No, but I don't cry much."

"What does make you cry?"

"A sexy, beautiful man writing exquisite music and knowing I'm his inspiration. I don't think there is a better way to express love than that." Ann lost a few more tears before she took a deep breath, and calmed down.

House wiped away the tears with his thumb. "Come to bed with me, Annie."

They got up from the couch and headed to the bedroom. Ann was on his right side with her arm around House's waist and he leaned into her as they walked.

They undressed slowly in front of each other. Neither was self-conscious at this point about scars or sags or a little extra flesh.

They walked towards each other and House bent down to kiss her. She held up her hand to stop him.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"It's your birthday; you can have whatever I'm able to give you."

"The first time we kissed, I was kind of, um, eager."

"I do remember some form of lip assault, now that you mention it."

"Could I have a re-do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like something more like a first kiss should have been, more soft, more tentative . . . '

"Something like this?" House whispered softly into Ann's ear.

He leaned in and kissed her tenderly all around her lips, finishing with a soft kiss to on top of them. Her mouth remained open as he gently rubbed his face all around hers, caressing one of her cheeks with his, moving slowly around her chin, around her other cheek, over her forehead and back to rest where he started.

Ann made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a shiver.

"Let's go to bed now," House said gently.

They separated, moved to their respective sides of the bed, pulled back the covers and climbed in. They reached for each other and began kissing again. House pulled away first and brought his mouth to her breast. He licked her nipple softly and heard her whimper. He continued this for several minutes and then moved on to the other breast, giving it the same treatment.

He kissed his way down her belly. He nuzzled her curls. His tongue moved around her lips until it found her clit. He began to lick softly as his fingers eased into her.

He began tapping against her g spot with his finger as he brought his tongue against her clit. It didn't take long for Ann to climax against his hand and his mouth, calling his name. House barely waited for her to recover when he started again. He took her over the edge three more times. She finally begged him to stop.

"I'm not quite finished," he told her as he drew the length of his cock against her soaking wet pussy. He held his tip at her opening briefly and then eased himself in. Nothing had ever felt quite as good to him as her body around him, twitching in all the places that made his cock happy.

They ground their hips together to maintain the stimulation and to avoid losing contact as long as possible. House finally began to withdraw and push in, establishing a rhythm that Ann met with every thrust.

It didn't take long for them to climax. Ann's body seized in near-total bliss - this orgasm even more intense that the four that preceded it. House emptied himself deeply and completely inside her, feeling pleasure radiating out from his center, up his torso and down to his toes.

He stayed inside her as long as he could, until he became soft and slipped out of her.

Ann was caressing his cheek. "Thank you for the best birthday I ever had."

Now that House had regained some of his senses, he realized he was curious. "What part did you like best?"

"The part that had you in it," Ann replied. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.

House stayed awake a few moments longer. "Happy Birthday, Annie," he said in his softest voice, "I love you."

House drifted off.

* * *

That Friday House received his invitation to the annual PPTH Christmas party. It was the second Saturday of December, as usual. House usually blew it off and got drunk. But, unlike the past few years, he wouldn't have Wilson for a drinking buddy.

Besides, he was pretty sure Chase was going to ask Danielle, and if Danielle knew about it, Ann would find out. So, he was more or less compelled to go with Ann. And was that so bad, really? He'd be at a party walking around with a gorgeous babe on his arm. Well, limping around, but, since everyone was going to be checking out Ann, anyway, no one would really notice his lack of mobility.

He came back to her place that night, invitation in hand. Ann was in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby," she said as she came over and gave him a kiss. "What's that?"

House held up the gold-lined envelope. "It's an invitation to the hospital Christmas party."

"I assume that you already responded 'yes.' "

"How did you know?"

"Because if you weren't going, the invitation would have wound up in your trash can at work."

"Okay, um, I was going to ask you . . . "

"Of course I'll go with you."

House released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Now, for the really hard part. "Listen . . . uh, I'd really like it if . . . "

"Danielle and I are going to shop for dresses on Sunday. I've already called the salon to schedule a manicure and a pedicure the Friday before, and I'll get my hair and makeup done that Saturday afternoon. The whole point of going to this thing is to show off your girlfriend, isn't it?"

House couldn't help but smile slightly. "That's a little narcissistic, isn't it?"

"What? You weren't going to ask me to look as good as possible, you were going to ask me to brush up on my knowledge of ancient philosophers in the original Greek and Latin to dazzle your colleagues with my intellect instead?"

"Well, no, but that would hurt, either."

"There's just too much pressure!" Ann exclaimed as she threw up her hands in mock dismay.

"Actually," House noted, "If you showed up completely naked, you'd be even sexier, if that helps."

"Thanks. At least now I have a backup plan."

Ann and Danielle went shopping that weekend. Ann came home with what House assumed was a dress, but it was on a hanger and covered with a bag that was tied at the bottom. When House asked to see it, Ann refused.

House was a little bit concerned that he couldn't look at the dress. He'd ordered a piece of jewelry for her Christmas present the day after her birthday that he had decided to give to her early, so she could wear it to the party. He could only hope it was okay with the dress. Well, it was expensive enough that even if Ann couldn't wear it that night, House was pretty sure she would like it anyway.

House didn't know why he was so concerned about all this stuff anyway. It was just a stupid Christmas party. He felt like he was in high school going to the idiot junior prom. What was he hoping to achieve with all this expense and effort, both on his part and Ann's? Did he want to rub Cuddy's and Wilson's (and, by extension, Lucas's and Sam's) noses in his relationship? When had he become such a bratty teenager?

Come to think of it, he had always been one. In fact, given the way the aforementioned quartet had behaved in the last year or so, he was actually the most mature of the group, not that that was saying much. He hadn't tripped or injured anyone, and he hadn't unceremoniously thrown anyone who was living with him out on the street. He never thought he'd see the day that he was the most honorable person in his set of his so-called friends.

He pulled out his tux, found all the pieces and dropped off the parts that needed to be cleaned and pressed with dry cleaner guy. With that accomplished, he decided to put any thoughts about the party out of his mind to enjoy Thanksgiving.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: For those of you who think Cameron is perfect in all things, or, at least, is the greatest thing since sliced bread, a note to let you know that she is subjected to a little criticism here regarding her physical attributes. Call it fat girls' revenge. In any case, consider yourself warned.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own House or Chase (or Cuddy or Lucas, who, because of their heinous behavior on Thanksgiving 2009, cannot go without a mention), but these OCs, yep, they'd be mine.

Ann had what she called a "small" event planned for Thanksgiving. Of course, Danielle and Chase were coming. Ann had also invited Bob and his wife Deirdre, and Tom and Sharon. Their son Andrew was spending the holiday with his girlfriend's family in Rochester.

All the preparations prompted House to think about his last Thanksgiving, driving six hours for a turkey sandwich. What a difference a year made. He was going from being treated like crap (and thinking he deserved it), to being the host of a dinner where he would be surrounded by people he actually liked and who liked him, with the possible exception of Chase.

Even Chase wasn't _that_ bad, House concluded. Of all the fellows House had ever had, Chase was easily the smartest. And, with his family background, he was certainly the most dysfunctional, which meant he was the most interesting. House thought he could possibly, grudgingly accept Chase into his home for a holiday, if the wombat behaved himself, that is.

_Wait a minute_, House thought. _My home?_ For obvious reasons, like Ann having a dining room and a big kitchen, and the fact that most of the guests were staying there, they were having the dinner at Ann's place, not his apartment. But, House was taken aback when he realized he thought of her house as his home. He wondered why.

The house didn't even belong to Ann, or, to Ann and a bank. She was renting it. It suited her purposes as far as entertaining friends was concerned. But she wasn't particularly attached to it, and neither was he. So, what made it feel like home to him, especially since he'd felt that way about very few places in his life?

A house or apartment was four walls, a roof and a floor, with enough furnishings to make it livable. So, what made it feel like you were at home there? Like you belonged there? After he thought about it, the only conclusion House could come to was that it was the presence of Ann that made it home for him. Wherever Ann was he felt comfortable, cared for, and loved. It was that simple. And that astonishing.

House decided to push all these deep thoughts away for the time being and focus on the upcoming holiday. It was the one he despised the least – setting aside last year, of course. There was lots of food and football, and no compulsory gift-giving.

Of course, now that he had the expectation of sex when he gave a present, he hated doing it quite a bit less. But he thought he was still bad at it, and he was relieved when it wasn't expected.

Ann spent the weekend before the holiday cooking and cleaning. House didn't mind cooking, but he really wasn't into washing or vacuuming. So, he helped with the food prep, did his laundry and tried to stay out of the way and not mess up anything too much.

Ann decided to work from home for the first part of the week so she could continue cooking. House was spending the week at Ann's, so he had closed and locked his apartment, and hoped Lucas and Cuddy wouldn't feel a "commemoration" of the "trick" they had played on House last year was necessary. He wasn't sure what they could do, but he didn't want to have to deal with it, in any case.

Hopefully, they'd actually be traveling to Cuddy's bitchy sister's house this year, leaving no time for any "pranks." House was pretty sure Cuddy wouldn't stoop to breaking and entering, at least not outside the hospital, but Lucas was perfectly capable of causing havoc on his own. The sprinkler stunt Lucas had pulled with Wilson's condo had actually damaged the entire building, so House called his landlord and told him it was in his own best interest to keep an eye on things.

Tom and Sharon arrived on Tuesday, and Bob and Deirdre on Wednesday. Since they'd be eating the traditional turkey dinner on Thursday and leftovers several days afterward, Ann decided to have something different each night prior. Tuesday was veal française, and Wednesday was shrimp and noodles with a Thai peanut sauce.

Ann had thought about making something Italian for Tom, but since they would be having lasagna along with their turkey (Ann knew that Tom thought no meal could even be considered a meal without pasta), she wanted to avoid any duplication.

Ann got up early on Thursday morning, much to House's frustration. He did understand that she needed to make brunch for a good-sized group of people, and get things going for dinner, but he missed his morning wake-up call.

Still, Tom and Sharon were leaving the next morning to get home and spend the balance of the weekend with their son and his girlfriend, who were coming back early from Rochester. Bob and Deirdre were leaving Saturday morning so they would be ready to return to work on Monday. (And Bob didn't want to miss the Bills game on Sunday afternoon, since they still had a shot at the playoffs.) So, House hoped he'd at least get some morning nookie on Sunday.

The day went along traditional lines, with the guys watching football and drinking beer in the living room, and the women cooking and drinking wine in the kitchen (with Ann refraining, of course).

House enjoyed the company of both Bob and Tom, and he discovered he actually could tolerate Chase, but he also found something surprising. He missed being with Ann. He found himself volunteering to go get more beer, just so he could go and see her working on dinner. (Of course, it wasn't just "seeing" her - he also felt the need to sneak a few touches here and there.)

After one such encounter, he left the kitchen to return to the living room.

"That boy has it bad for you," Sharon observed.

"It's mutual," Ann responded.

"I'm happy for you, Annie," Deirdre stated.

"Me, too," Danielle chimed in.

Ann was finding all this attention a little embarrassing, so she deflected. "What's going on with you and Robert these days?"

"I was wondering that myself," Deirdre interjected.

"Well," Danielle paused, thinking carefully. "We're good friends and I enjoy his company immensely."

"Nothing more?" Sharon asked, emphasizing her skepticism by looking over her glasses.

"No," Danielle responded, "I don't think he's receptive."

"Why not?" Deirdre asked.

"I think he has a problem letting himself be attracted to big girls like us," Ann answered for Danielle.

"You're not big," Danielle insisted. "You're just curvy. I'm big. And I do think that doesn't do it for him."

"Funny," Sharon observed. "You told us you go to movies together, you go out to dinner with him, you stay at either your place or his and watch TV together, you cook meals together, and you've even been grocery shopping with him, haven't you?"

"Just the one time," Danielle stated.

"Now," Sharon noted, "I know the last time that I went out with anyone Nixon was in office, but aren't most of those activities considered somewhat date-like?"

"I guess," Danielle conceded.

"But . . . " Deirdre coaxed.

"Well, he, um, hasn't . . . " Danielle trailed off.

"Made his move?" Ann asked. "You know, not every relationship moves as fast as Greg's and mine did."

"How fast?" Sharon asked.

"Well," Ann lowered her voice and looked around conspiratorially, "We had sex the day we met."

"Wow!" Deirdre exclaimed. "I thought Bob and I were fast. We met one weekend and we did it the next. You guys have to be some sort of record."

"Well," Ann countered, "It was a long day. I mean, we met at lunch and we didn't do it until late that night."

"Four years," Sharon stated.

"What?" Deirdre questioned in confusion.

"Tom and I met in high school," Sharon began, "And in those days, there were girls who put out and those who didn't. And, if wanted to have a good reputation, and you wanted to keep the guy, you wanted to be one of the girls who didn't. We started dating at sixteen, and we might have done it after high school, but he got drafted and left for basic training the week after we graduated. So, we waited until he got back two years later."

"Wow," Danielle exclaimed, "Four years! So, there's hope after three months?"

"Most definitely," Sharon confirmed.

"Do you _want_ to have any hope?" Ann asked. "Are you attracted to him?"

"Have you actually looked at him?" Danielle questioned. "He's incredibly hot."

"I suppose," Ann conceded. "In a classic, handsome, model sort of way . . . "

"As opposed to what?" Sharon asked.

"Rugged, beautifully aged, with a lean, muscular body and eyes that are bluer and deeper than any ocean," Ann sighed.

"You better cut that out, or you're going to need a cold shower before dinner," Deirdre warned.

"Speaking of dinner, it's about time to get this show on the road, isn't it?" Ann asked, recovering quickly.

They began plating the food.

The men came into the dining room and took seats as the food was brought out. There was the turkey, of course, and the lasagna, along with roasted garlic mashed and oven-roasted dill potatoes. Other sides were a mushroom-barley stuffing, white turnips, green beans with almonds, squash with brown sugar and maple syrup, home-made cranberry sauce, tossed salad, whole grain rolls, and gravy. Gallons of gravy.

Ann stood at the head of the table. "Since I'm an atheist that means were are not going to be saying grace. In lieu of that, how about we go around the table quickly and say what we are thankful for?"

"That I won't be forced to eat Texas barbecue this Thanksgiving," Danielle began.

"That my impossible boss let me have the day off," Chase flashed a smile at House, who growled in return.

"That soon I will no longer have to suffer through tales of stupid, bratty school kids, since my wife is a mere two years away from retirement," Bob stated.

"That my husband isn't," Deirdre said.

"That my son has a nice girlfriend that he seems to want to settle down with," Sharon noted.

"That my son has a _girl_friend," Tom said, "Not that there's anything wrong if he didn't . . . "

"The food. Can we eat now?" House whined.

Ann shot House a disapproving look, "_My_ turn. That the people I care most about in the world are here with me today. I love you all very much. Now, dig in."

Everyone began serving and passing dishes. After requests for things died down, the table was quiet as people ate.

Once the first round was done and people who wanted seconds had them, the conversation started up again.

"So, what were you guys talking about all afternoon?" Deirdre inquired.

"We were watching football, so, football, _duh_," Bob replied.

"You know," Deirdre noted, "When you talk to me like that, dear, I realize that I won't really miss my job after I retire because I already have a bratty kid at home."

"Thanks, honey," Bob smiled at her, and then stuck out his tongue.

"Seriously, though, you were able to spend an entire afternoon talking about football?" Sharon asked incredulously.

"Well," Tom explained. "You guess which play they're going to do, then you watch it and yell at the screen, either in joy 'cuz they did it right or in anger 'cuz they screwed it up, then you do post-play analysis while waiting for the next one. Or, you criticize the officials for either calling or not calling a penalty."

"You really do all that game analysis?" Ann questioned House.

"Actually, my bookie and I are more concerned about the point spread," House replied. "That, and I'm checking out the babes in the beer commercials."

"Well, don't expect to see me sporting a bikini in the snow this winter," Ann stated.

"Damn," House responded.

"So, what did you women talk about?" Bob inquired.

Of course, there was no way any of them was going to admit they were discussing whether or not Chase was sexually interested in Danielle.

"Recipes," Sharon asserted.

"C'mon," Tom stated with skepticism, "There's no way four professional women could spend hours talking about recipes. Especially you, since you hate to cook."

There was an awkward silence. "Okay," Ann admitted. "We were actually discussing and comparing your penises. You know, width versus length, fit, staying power, etc."

Every man at the table either spit out what he was drinking or coughed on what he was chewing.

"What do you say, ladies?" Ann stood up. "Shall we clear the dishes and put the food away while we make coffee and get dessert?"

The men sat in stunned silence while the women went in and out of the dining room bringing things into the kitchen.

It took Chase a few moments to realize that they couldn't have been talking about his manhood, since none of the women in that particular group had seen it. However, he wasn't sure he wanted to advertise, especially in front of House, what was happening with his sex life, or not happening. So, he changed the subject, to the relief of all the assembled men.

"Hey, do you have any cigars we could go smoke on the deck?" he asked House.

"Good idea," House said, in a rare positive acknowledgment of something Chase had suggested.

It took about forty-five minutes to get all the dishes in the dishwasher and all the food packed away. Ann separated portions of the dinner for each couple to take home, knowing that as much as she and House liked leftovers, there was no way they were going to be eating turkey for the next two weeks. She was already looking forward ordering a pizza on Sunday night for a break.

Dessert was apple pie and pumpkin mousse. There were coffee and after dinner drinks, including cognac.

By the time they finished with dessert and lingered around the table, it was almost nine o'clock.

It took another half hour to clean up. Tom and Sharon and Bob and Deirdre headed to their respective bedrooms. House went to their bedroom to wait for Ann.

As Chase and Danielle made their way to the front door to leave, Ann intercepted them. She had been observing them for the past few minutes and was concerned about how much they had had to drink. When she saw Chase fumble with his keys and drop them, and Danielle have a hard time picking them up, she knew they shouldn't be driving home.

She grabbed Chase's keys and refused to give them back. When they protested she told them she didn't think either of them was in any shape to drive, and that she didn't want to be responsible for anything happening to them.

"But you already have all your guest rooms filled," Danielle said. "You don't have any space for us."

"The couch in the third bedroom folds out," Ann informed her, "And there's a section of the basement that's finished. There's a bed and a bathroom down there."

"I'll take the bedroom and you can have the basement with the bathroom," Chase offered chivalrously.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't usually get up during the night, so I don't really need a bathroom," Chase told her.

"Thanks," Danielle responded.

Ann helped both of them with sheets and blankets and retreated to her bedroom for the night. House was in bed watching TV.

"Are Danielle and the wombat staying?" he asked Ann.

"I convinced them," Ann said, relief evident in her voice.

"Which room did they pick?"

"Danielle is in the basement and Chase is in the music room."

"Why are they in separate rooms?"

"When we were in the kitchen today, Danielle said they hadn't gotten to the point in their relationship where they were sleeping together, and she wasn't sure they ever would."

"Wait a minute. Then how could you women be discussing Chase's penis if Danielle hasn't seen it?"

"I really didn't think either Danielle or Robert wanted us to be discussing their sex life, or non-sex life, at the dinner table. The penis thing was a ruse."

"You mean you weren't dazzling the other women with tales of my gigantic member and highly skilled swordsmanship?"

"Sorry, baby."

"If you want to keep my secrets all to yourself, I understand. Anyway, one hundred bucks says they wind up in the same room by morning."

"Seriously? Why?"

"Alcohol is a great reducer of inhibitions."

"Are you saying he's so drunk he'll sleep with her when he wouldn't otherwise?"

"Not exactly. What I meant was if he was thinking about it before and he was at all reluctant, the booze could very easily take that reluctance away."

"Interesting."

"Here." House gave Ann an envelope he pulled out from under his pillow. It had her name on it.

Ann opened it and looked at its contents. There was a single piece of paper with the just the word "You" in House's handwriting on it.

"What's this?" Ann asked as she held up the paper in front of him.

"What I'm really thankful for," House replied softly.

Ann looked at the paper for a moment, then folded it carefully and returned it to the envelope. She placed it on her nightstand. She reached over, gently took his face in her hands and kissed him

House and Ann enjoyed a little uninhibited activity of their own and went to sleep.

* * *

Chase woke up about midnight. What he had forgotten when he took the room without the bathroom was that he didn't need to get up most nights, unless he had had something to drink, that is. He tried to ignore it, but the sensation was becoming more and more urgent.

He considered his options. He couldn't use the bathroom between the two guest rooms without waking at least one of the couples up, and he barely knew them. So, there was no way he was going to barge in there. Likewise, he wasn't about to incur House's considerable wrath by going to knock on their door and waking them up, or even worse, interrupting whatever they might be doing, which would have a major ick factor, anyway.

He considered using the powder room, but he remembered that it was very near the front door, which was where the alarm system was set up. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was trip the alarm and wake everyone up, not to mention falsely alert whatever emergency personnel would show up.

It seemed his only recourse was to use the bathroom downstairs where Danielle was sleeping. He figured she would be the most forgiving of being disturbed. He got up and pulled on his clothes.

Chase made his way to the basement door. Even though he had hoped not to bother her, he knew he couldn't make it down the stairs without turning on the light. So, he closed the door behind him, found the light switch and flipped it on.

It was very bright, and he knew there was no way it wouldn't wake up Danielle. He walked by her bed and hurried into the bathroom.

When he had finished his business, he came out of the bathroom and attempted to walk by again. He saw Danielle under the covers, shivering.

"Hey, are you okay?" Chase asked, sitting down on the bed.

"I'm all right," Danielle acknowledged, "Except I'm freezing."

For the first time, Chase noticed how cold it was. "Yeah, it is cold down here. Do you want to swap rooms?"

"If I'm this cold with all my natural insulation, you'll get frostbite down here."

"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you like this. Are there any extra blankets, at least?"

"I'm sure there are some in Ann's linen closet, but that's right outside her bedroom. I don't want to risk waking them up."

"I know what you mean."

"Go to bed, you must be tired."

"There's no way I'm leaving you down here to freeze like this. Hang on."

Chase went back up the stairs and retrieved the blanket from his bed. He went back down to the basement room.

"Here," Chase said and he spread the blanket over her bed, "Take this."

"Is that your only blanket?" Danielle asked.

"Yeah, but it's a lot warmer up there."

"No way is it warm enough to sleep without any blankets at all."

"I'll be okay."

"No, you won't. Stay here."

"Um . . . you mean with you here in the bed?"

"No, I meant you should sleep standing up in the shower. Of course I meant here with me. I need you to keep me warm."

Chase had become increasingly cold the longer he stood there talking to her. His feet, even with socks on, felt almost numb. "Okay."

He went and turned off the light and somehow made it back to the bed without tripping over anything. He took off everything but his boxers, climbed in, and rolled over on his side, facing away from the center of the bed.

"That's not really going to help," Danielle stated with frustration. She moved over toward Chase and spooned behind him.

Chase was surprised how good it felt to have Danielle hold him like that. He realized that, other than that one sexual encounter with Cameron when the hospital was on lockdown, it had been over a year since anyone had even touched him, let alone cuddled with him.

Chase felt much warmer, but he could still feel Danielle shiver every few moments.

"I don't think I'm doing my part here," Chase stated as he turned over on to his other side. He slid his arms around her and pulled her close to him. Danielle put her arms around Chase.

Again, Chase assumed because it had been so long, a part of him was responding to Danielle's proximity. He wasn't sure how she was going to react until he heard her sigh and press herself against him there.

"I'd almost forgotten what this feels like," she murmured.

"Me, too," he said.

"Hey, it would warm us up . . . "

"I don't have any . . . um . . . I'm not prepared . . . "

"I don't think either of us is contagious, and I'm due for my monthly visit from Aunt Flo this weekend, so I don't think there's a significant risk of pregnancy."

Chase grinned. "Well, it would be ironic for two former Catholics to be relying on the rhythm method . . . "

"Just the way I like my sex, with a side of irony."

Chase leaned in and began to kiss her on the lips. Their mouths parted and their tongues began to dance. They continued for a while, until they ran out of breath.

They paused with their foreheads resting together. "Do you want to take off clothes, or do you want to, um, work around them since it's so cold?" Chase inquired.

"I'm not enough of an athlete to work around things," Danielle replied. "Besides, I want to feel your skin."

They both quickly slipped out of what they were wearing. They put the items at the foot of the bed in case they needed to get up.

Chase began kissing Danielle again, pressing his chest against hers. He noticed how warm she was, and how large and soft. Cameron's boobs were so small he always felt like he was going to cut himself on her rib cage. This was much more comfortable.

He ran his hands up and down her back. He was expecting to feel a lot of flesh, but instead he found a waist without too much stuff hanging around it. He was quite surprised when he got to her ass. It was very large, of course, but it was very firm. Not flabby at all.

He rubbed her belly and found it to be not nearly as firm there. But it still felt really good.

"Your skin is so soft," Chase remarked as he continued to caress her. Cameron went through months of the year when he could barely touch her because her skin was so taut and dry.

"You need some fat in your diet to keep your skin supple," Danielle responded with another sigh.

Chase moved down to her thighs. She was definitely carrying a lot of weight there, but Chase still enjoyed the soft feel of her skin. He reached in-between and found her pussy was very damp. He rubbed her clit for a few moments, just to make sure she was ready. She moaned softly.

Chase waited at her entrance briefly and then he slid himself in slowly, mindful of the fact that she hadn't been with anyone for a while. She was tight but yielding. The thing that surprised him the most was how good it felt to be surrounded by her. He had this soft body all around him and it felt comfortable and warm and safe. It felt like where he belonged. And he wasn't sure he'd ever felt that way before.

He continued to pump and let the pressure build for both of them. He was taken aback by how well Danielle moved to meet his thrusts. Finally, neither of them could hold out any longer. Danielle's orgasm was intense and long. She hadn't felt this much pleasure from her body joining with another body in a long time.

Chase released deep inside her. He was physically and emotionally satisfied in a way he had never been until now.

Cameron was so tiny, Chase had always been mindful that he couldn't very well rest on top of her without hurting her. So, instinctively, he went to pull away from Danielle.

"Don't," she warned gently. "Remember, we're trying to stay warm here."

"Right," Chase agreed and pulled her closer. He rested his head on her chest.

"That was lovely, by the way," Danielle told him as she cuddled him in her ample arms.

"Yeah, I liked it, too," Chase responded. "A lot."

"Maybe we could stop at a drug store on the way home tomorrow, for condoms?" Danielle asked expectantly.

"Absolutely. They'll work until you're on the pill," Chase replied as he began to drift off.

Danielle smiled and settled in to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I'm still having computer problems, and my repair guy says it may take a total overwrite of my hard drive to fix it. I'm still able to publish right now, but , if you don't see anything new for a while, you'll know why. Bummer.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, Do Own OCs. blah, blah

Ann went down to the basement on Friday morning to wake up Danielle for breakfast and found Chase wrapped around her. Chase looked slightly embarrassed at being caught, but Danielle simply smiled.

They didn't shower since they didn't have any changes of clothes. They got dressed and joined everyone for breakfast.

Ann had riced some of the mashed potatoes and made hash browns out of them, along with eggs and bacon. They toasted some of the leftover rolls and had coffee and juice.

Chase knew he was being punished for leaving the seminary when his prayers that House keep quiet about the previous night's sleeping arrangements were not answered.

"So, how was the basement?" House asked with a leer in his voice as everyone was finishing up their breakfast.

"It was cold," Chase responded glumly.

"Robert came downstairs to help me keep warm," Danielle interjected.

"I'll bet he did," House agreed with another leer.

"I'm sorry," Ann said, "I forgot to tell you there's a space heater in the closet."

"I'm sure they got along fine without it," House noted lecherously.

"Just knock it off, okay?" Chase asked. "It's bad enough everyone I work with is going to hear about this from you on Monday. Can't I at least enjoy the rest of the weekend?"

"Greg, would you really tell your team at work?" Ann asked.

"Are you kidding?" Chase responded. "Not only the team, but Wilson, Cuddy, the nurses . . . hell, if he could, he'd announce it over the PA system."

"No I wouldn't," House insisted. "Everyone ignores the PA system. Group e-mail is a much more effective means of communication."

"See!" Chase exclaimed in irritation.

"Gee, is it that bad?" Danielle asked.

"Not for you," Chase responded. "You don't work there. Besides, doesn't it upset you even the slightest that the custodial staff at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital is going to know intimate details about your life?"

"I'm just happy to have some 'intimate details' for someone to know about," Danielle remarked. "It's been a long dry spell."

"I think we should go now," Chase stated. "Can I have my keys?"

"Okay," Ann agreed, "I'll just go get them."

"Should I get a ride home with someone else?" Danielle asked when she saw how upset Chase still was.

"What?" Chase asked, confused. "No, of course not. I need you to come with me to the drugstore, remember?"

Danielle smiled slightly. When she saw everyone looking at her, she said, "Um, he needs me to help him pick out a pain reliever for his hangover."

At this point, Ann had returned from the kitchen with Chase's keys.

"Thanks for inviting me," Chase said to Ann. "I had a really great time."

House was about to open his mouth and make a comment when both Chase and Ann shot him daggers with their eyes.

"You're welcome here anytime," Ann informed him. Everyone said goodbye and Ann walked them to the front door.

By the time Ann got back to the table, it had been cleared. She went in the kitchen. Deidre and Bob had the dishwasher emptied. Deirdre was putting the dishes away while House cleaned the plates from breakfast and Bob stacked them in the dishwasher. Sharon and Tom were putting away the leftovers.

"I can do this," Ann said.

"We're almost done," Sharon informed her.

"Don't you want to get on the road?" Ann asked Sharon and Tom.

"It can wait a few minutes, Annie," Tom replied.

They left within the half-hour.

"I hope you don't mind," Deirdre told Ann, "But Bob promised to take me to the Princeton University Art Museum. They have an exhibit on pre-Colombian art that I really want to see. You're welcome to join us."

"Greg isn't much for walking around art museums, and I'm a little tired, so why don't you go ahead," Ann responded.

"We'll be back by late afternoon, okay?" Deirdre told her as they headed out.

After they left, House went to the living room to watch TV while Ann stripped the beds in Tom and Sharon's room, the basement, and the fold-out couch in the music room. She put one load in the wash and joined House in the living room.

"Are you mad at me?" House asked.

"Annoyed is more like it," Ann answered.

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, everyone kind of took off because it was so awkward."

"Well, I suppose Bob and Deirdre could have pulled that pre-Colombian thing out of their asses to get out of here for a while, but everyone else was leaving anyway, weren't they?"

"Yeah. You're right."

"So what's the big deal?"

"It's not a big deal. It's just . . .you were kidding about telling everyone, right?"

"Well . . . "

"You really shouldn't do that. What about Chase's feelings?"

"What about them?"

"Well, it was obviously upsetting to him."

"Listen, before you go all sympathetic on him, remember he's no defenseless kitten. When he found out about us, he had at least two pools going for when we would break up."

"Did you get a cut?"

"Of course. How do you think I paid for those roses for your birthday?"

Ann smiled. "I'm sorry for telling you how to conduct yourself at work with your employees. It's none of my business. I just don't want Chase to get mad at Danielle or get scared away."

"I wouldn't worry about that. At least not over this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Did you hear that comment about Chase and Danielle going to the drugstore?"

"Yes. She said he needed help with a pain reliever for his hangover."

"Think about that for a second. He's a doctor certified in two specialties and he needs help from a management consultant to pick which bottle of aspirin to buy?"

"I guess that is pretty unlikely. So why did he need her at the drugstore, then?"

"Since they didn't want to say what is was, here's a guess - how about buying condoms? If they just started having sex, he doesn't know her preferences – ribbed or smooth, lubricated, colors . . . "

"Okay, enough detail. I get it. And if he's buying condoms . . . "

"He plans to keep screwing her."

"But, wasn't he really upset about everyone knowing that they're doing it?"

"Let me explain something to you about the male libido. We can get upset and all that, but if we like banging someone, and we have the chance to bang them again, we'll do it. Besides, if he thinks I'm going to blab his secret all over the hospital, why not actually be doing what I'm telling everyone he's doing?"

"So, that means he likes having sex with her?"

"It would appear so."

"And you said 'if he thinks I'm going to blab his secret.' Does that mean you're not?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Ann smiled. "You know, you really are at least trying to be decent about this."

"Don't let that get around. I have a reputation to protect. Hey, there's something I wanted to ask you."

"What?"

"Aren't you the person who plans everything? Don't you have enough stuff stored here in case of a winter storm to impress a survivalist?"

"I guess. What's your point?"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe you 'forgot' there was a space heater in the basement closet?"

A sly grin formed on Ann's face. "It was an experiment. I wasn't sure if the cold would drive them upstairs together, or the bathroom access would keep them downstairs despite the cold."

"There's a much better chance of getting laid if it's cold and you need body heat."

"Are you suggesting I should turn the thermostat lower when we go to bed?"

"Ever notice how cold it is in my apartment at night?"

"Speaking of getting laid, it's only noon, and Deirdre and Bob won't be back for three hours, at least . . . "

"Lead the way, Annie."

They went to the bedroom and locked the door, just in case Bob and Deirdre came back earlier than expected. They got naked quickly after that.

Ann lay down on the bed and was surprised when House did the same but with his feet near the pillows and his head at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Ann asked, slightly nervously.

"Take it easy," House replied, trying to calm her. "I figure you've spent a lot of time the last few days standing, and, and I know you don't wear five-inch high heels or anything, but I'm guessing your feet might be a little sore, anyway."

"They are a little bit tired, I guess."

"How does this feel?" House had taken her left foot into his hands. He was pressing the sole with both of his thumbs.

"Um, that's nice."

House continued to work on the bottom of her foot, and then proceeded to the heel, and then moving between the spaces between each of the large bones. He then spent a while massaging each toe. It took a total of about fifteen minutes. He then took her right foot, giving it the same treatment.

By the time he was finished, Ann felt so good, she was in a near-gelatinous state. House kissed each foot, and then began to kiss his way up the inside of her legs. He covered her inner thighs with wet, sloppy kisses.

Ann was already pretty wet when he reached her center. He lapped up the juices with his tongue and plunged inside.

"Ummm," Ann moaned as House's tongue danced inside her. After several minutes, he slipped back out again. Before Ann had the chance to protest, he began to lick her clit all around the sides. "Oh, Greg!" she cried as his tongue found the tip. She climaxed in a matter of minutes.

After she recovered, he bent his head down to give her more.

"No," she said quietly, reaching down to cup his cheek with her hand. "I want you inside me."

House moved up the bed and gently entered her. He felt her move all around him - a sensation he had become familiar with, but one that never failed to touch something deep within him.

He pushed in and out of her. After a few moments, Ann took his face in her hands. Looking directly in his eyes, she whispered, "My beautiful, beautiful man." She stared intently at him for a few moments, then her eyes rolled back and she climaxed, taking House over the edge with her.

He collapsed on top of her and she enfolded him in her arms. They rested contentedly for a good half hour.

It was almost two, and they decided they should get up, in case their house guests came back early. Ann took the sheets for Tom and Sharon's bed out of the dryer, put the sheets from the downstairs bed in the dryer, and put the sheets from the sofa bed into the wash.

She made up Tom and Sharon's bed, and went to the kitchen to empty the dishwasher. She made sure everything was ready to heat up for tonight's dinner, and that they had enough for breakfast tomorrow.

At this point, the sheets for the downstairs bed were dry, so she took them out and put the sheets for the fold-out couch in the dryer. She went downstairs and made up that bed. She smiled when she thought of Chase and Danielle. She hoped her little "push" was the right thing to do.

She was almost tempted to call Danielle and find out how things were going. She decided that she'd leave them alone for the rest of the weekend. If anything important happened, she was sure Danielle would call her. Otherwise, it was best to just let them find their own way.

Bob and Deirdre came back at around three-thirty. Deirdre seemed quite excited about the exhibit, so maybe they really had planned to see it, after all.

They had dinner at six, and House, Bob and Ann had a small, impromptu jam session until about nine. Everyone went to bed after that. Bob and Deirdre left the next morning after breakfast.

Ann spent most of Saturday cleaning. She was really tired at this point, but she wanted to get everything done before the next day so she could rest a little. They ate the last of the leftovers Saturday night, except for some of the meat and the carcass. Ann went to the grocery store that afternoon to get vegetables and more barley to make soup on Sunday. As it simmered on the stove Sunday afternoon, House and Ann had sex and a long nap. They ate pizza on Sunday night and returned to work on Monday.

House hadn't decided how much of a thing to make out of Chase's new relationship, but he and the team got involved in a very complex case that pushed it to the side. House spent late nights at the hospital, and, between that and a rather sharp cold snap, his leg was giving him a lot of trouble. The thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Ann was waiting in bed for him every night.

Although House had the puzzle figured out by late Thursday night, it turned out it was too late to save the patient. Uncharacteristically, he spent the night at the hospital. He left at noon, and picked up the jewelry he had ordered for Ann for Christmas. The store wrapped it for him. He got to Ann's place about two-thirty, and stowed the present in a place he figured she wouldn't find it. He stripped down to his boxers and went to bed for a nap.

Ann came in the door at five-thirty. She knew House was there because she had seen his car in the garage and she found his coat hanging on the coat rack in the foyer. She also knew that he probably wasn't going to be in an upbeat mood. Although she hadn't been in direct contact with him, she found out he had lost the patient from Chase, via Danielle, of course. Ann remembered the e-mail: "Our guys are going to need a little extra TLC this weekend."

Ann took out the turkey soup she had been thawing in the refrigerator and put it in a pot on the stove. She put it on moderate heat and went to the bedroom.

It was early December, so it was already dark out, and the bedroom was dark, too. Once Ann's eyes became accustomed to the low light, she was able to make out House's form. He was burrowed under the covers, facing away from her.

His breathing didn't sound like he was sleeping, and she knew that he wasn't when she heard him sigh. He sounded dejected, Ann thought. She cleared her throat softly just to make sure he was aware that she was there, and then she went over to his side of the bed.

"Hey baby," she said in a quiet voice as she bent down to kiss him. She was a little surprised that he didn't reach up to touch her at all.

"Uh," he grunted vaguely.

"How are you feeling?"

"Leg hurts."

"I heard you had a tough case this week."

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Do you want some ibuprofen?"

"Can't take it on an empty stomach."

"I have some soup heating up, why don't I go and see if it's ready?"

"Uh-huh."

Ann was surprised at House's lack of conversation, or even acknowledgment of her. She knew he was exhausted, in pain and hungry. He'd probably be better after he ate.

She turned up the soup to make sure it would be nice and hot. She was getting out the bowls, spoons and ladle when she heard a crash coming from the bedroom.

As she hurried down the hall, she heard House yell, "Son of a bitch!"

She entered the room and flipped on the lights. House was sitting on the floor next to the bed. It looked like he had tried to get up and his leg had simply given out on him.

"Are you trying to blind me?" House asked angrily, shielding his eyes from the light she had just turned on.

"I'm just checking on you," Ann said as she moved towards him.

"Cut it out," House responded. "I already have a mommy."

Ann was taken aback by House's comment. The tone was harsh, and she didn't see any look in his eyes that would tell her he was kidding in some way.

He pulled himself up and sat back down on the bed. "I don't think I can walk to the table. I'm not hungry, anyway."

"What about your pain meds?"

"What about them? They suck. I might as well not bother."

"Baby, what's wrong? "

"Just get the hell away from me, will you?"

Ann left the room. She had never seen House like this. He was irascible and irrational. He must be in a lot of pain, she thought.

When she got to the kitchen, the soup was ready. Ann knew House would feel better if he could take his meds, and that meant he had to eat. So, she ladled some soup in one of the bowls and put it, a spoon, and some napkins on a tray.

She went back to the room and saw him furiously kneading his leg.

"I brought you some soup," she informed him. She knew that was stating the obvious, but it was so awkward, she felt the need to fill the space with words.

"Leave it on the nightstand," he grunted.

Ann did as she was told and retreated from the room. She went to the kitchen to get her own soup. It felt strange that they were going to eat separately. They hadn't done that any night they were together since the night they met. But, Ann wanted House to eat, so if that meant sacrificing one meal with him, she was willing to do it.

She was just about to put the ladle in the pot to get her own soup when she heard him swear again. She moved quickly to the bedroom, not knowing what she would find.

He was sitting in bed with the tray on his lap. He was concentrating so much he didn't see her standing just inside the room. Nothing had spilled and burned him, as she feared. She watched as he took a spoonful of the soup. His hand was shaking so much, most of the soup was back in the bowl by the time the spoon reached his mouth. He tried two more times with the same result.

"This is fucking useless," he said aloud to himself as he put the spoon on the tray and put his arm over his head. His breathing was ragged.

Ann could no longer watch him in pain and frustration like this. She knew she was risking his wrath, but she couldn't keep away anymore. She went to the bed, moved the tray back to the nightstand and began to stroke the arm that was across his face.

He pulled his arm away. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Annie . . . " House whispered. He sounded like a small child trying not to cry.

"It's okay, baby," she said softly. She held out her arms and he fell into them. His head was buried in the space between her collarbone and her neck. She caressed his back and ran her fingers through his hair.

After a few minutes, he looked up at her with red rimmed eyes. "Sorry to be so pathetic," he mumbled.

Ann cupped his cheek. "You're not pathetic! You're in at least five kinds of pain. You're entitled to feel badly."

"I can't even feed myself. I'm useless and weak."

"Weak? No fuckin' way! You function every day in more pain than most people could tolerate in a lifetime. You are the strongest, bravest person I've ever known."

"Really?" House asked, looking at her with that totally vulnerable face she'd first seen when she told him he was the sexiest man on the planet.

"Don't you have days when just getting out of bed is an act of will, let alone doing your job, saving people that no one else can? How can you not see how courageous you are?"

House was silent for a while.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ann asked.

"What?"

"Can you let me get you some warm soup?"

"I can't eat it."

"We'll figure something out."

Ann took the soup and returned to the kitchen. She dumped it in the sink and got more soup from the pot on the stove. She put the bowl back on the tray and headed back to the bedroom.

House was sitting up in bed. He held up his hands to show her they were still shaking.

Ann put the tray down on the nightstand and took House's hands in her own. She kissed each one and placed it gently on the bed. She moved the tray into position over his lap. She dipped the spoon in the soup and brought it up to his mouth. House looked at it for a couple of seconds and then sipped it off the spoon.

Ann went back to the bowl for another spoonful, which she then ate. They continued back and forth until that bowl was finished and they had consumed a second one.

Ann brought the dishes back to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. She put what was left of the soup in the refrigerator.

When she returned to the bedroom, House was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I need to pee," he told her. "Can you get me my cane?"

Ann went to retrieve it and handed it to him. There was a laundry basket in the room with clean clothes, so Ann turned away to sort and fold them.

She heard him get up slowly, and, from the corner of her eye she watched as he steadied himself. She really wanted to rush over and help him, but she knew his dignity had suffered enough assaults already that night.

He returned after a few minutes and eased himself slowly down on the bed. He had a glass of water that he used to take his meds. He carefully lay back down.

Ann finished what she was doing and went to the bathroom to get undressed and brush her teeth. She climbed into bed and crawled over next to House.

"Listen," he said, looking down. "I'm sorry . . . "

Ann gently but quickly put her finger over House's lips. "Don't . . . it's okay." She moved her hand away from his lips and cupped his cheek. He leaned into her hand and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Ann moved her hand from his face and took House's left hand. She began to massage it, working firmly but gently on the palm and fingers. She then massaged his wrist and forearm all the way to the elbow. When she finished, she did the same thing with his right hand, being extra careful knowing that this arm was more sore because of his using it with the cane.

House sighed. "I'm really tired and I don't think I have the energy for . . . "

"I didn't expect it," Ann responded. "I know you had a crappy day. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Right now, I think I need to sleep. But I think I will want to talk about it in the morning."

"I'll look forward to it."

"It's not a happy story."

"It's not always about happy. Besides, whenever I'm with you, it's okay."

"Even tonight, when I was being a prick?"

"Well, that wasn't the most enjoyable experience I've ever had, but we got through it, didn't we?"

"Yeah . . . "

House leaned over for what Ann thought would be a quick kiss. It turned out to be soft and slow. House skillfully used his lips and tongue to probe and caress Ann's lips and mouth.

"In addition to being the sexiest man on the planet, you are the best kisser that ever lived," Ann sighed contentedly as they settled into each other's arms.

"Did you know one of the first things I noticed about you?"

"What?"

"Your lips – full, soft, red – just begging to be kissed."

"And yet, I kissed you first."

"You have no idea how glad I am that you did."

"I think I do, since I feel the same way. Go to sleep."

They moved even closer together and drifted off.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: This chapter is fairly heavy House /Chase. I started to write dialog between them and I just couldn't stop. Anyway, I hope it works.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own House or Chase, but the OCs are all mine!

Ann woke up that morning to an empty bed. She was surprised at first, until she smelled coffee.

She got up and went to the kitchen.

"Hey," House said softly. He was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and texting on his phone. "I'm sorry, but I have to go in to work today."

"I thought your case was over."

"When a patient dies, I usually do an autopsy to confirm the diagnosis if I can get consent. Foreman texted me yesterday afternoon that he had it. The morgue is pretty quiet on weekends unless there's a crime spree, so now is a good time to do it."

"So, you were texting Foreman to set it up?"

"Yeah, and letting Chase know he should come in."

"He's going to do the autopsy with you?"

"He said he wanted to."

"Really? Why?"

"I have no idea. It could be some seminary-Catholic-guilt-absolution thing. Or it could be that it's a kid. He always gets more attached to the patients when they're young."

"Wow. I didn't know it was a child. How old?"

"Seven. A boy. Interesting kid."

"I thought you usually didn't get to know your patients."

"I don't, but I kind of had no choice here."

"Why?"

"Well, if we can't save someone, I'm the one who usually tells them. And the kid asked me to stay with him until he died. Chase and me."

"Where were his parents?"

"No idea. He came from foster care and he was between families."

"Poor thing. How awful to die without any loved ones around."

"The world is full of throwaway kids."

"At least you were there with him."

"For whatever good that did."

"I'm sure it helped him. You said he was interesting. How?"

"He said he wanted to be a pilot. He talked like it was still going to happen. He said he was going to be soaring above the clouds."

"Oh, Greg."

"He got cold and started shivering. He asked us to hold him. We passed him back and forth."

"Who was holding him when he died?"

"Me."

Ann pulled her chair next to House's and put her arms around him. "No wonder your arms were shaking last night."

House put his head on Ann's shoulder. After a couple of minutes, he cleared his throat. "I have to go. Chase is meeting me at ten and I need to get in the shower."

"Okay. Do you mind if I invite them over for dinner tonight?"

"Whatever you want."

Ann called Danielle after House left for the hospital.

"So, how was Robert last night?" Ann asked Danielle.

"Distant, at first," Danielle replied. "After I fed him, and he had a couple of beers, he opened up a little. That poor child. Seven years old and all alone."

"Robert had a lonely childhood, didn't he?"

"His mother was an alcoholic who neglected him and his father was completely uninvolved. He didn't have any siblings. And he didn't have any friends because he was afraid to bring them home to see his mom."

"Greg had serious problems with his father and his mother never did anything about it. He didn't have any siblings, either. And he never made any friends because his dad was in the military and they moved so much."

"What are you saying?"

"Maybe they both identified with, or at least felt sympathetic towards this little boy."

"And it may be difficult for them to deal with it?"

"Probably. Listen, do you and Robert want to come over tonight?"

"Do you think that will help?"

"Yes. I think it might be good for the two of them to hang out with each other for a little while."

"How is that going to happen if we're there?"

"We could go to the mall or something."

"I spent too much on my dress for the Christmas party. Between that and the shoes, my credit card is still recovering."

"Well, I've got some chick flick DVDs around here somewhere that I know Greg won't want to see. We could watch in my bedroom and let them hang out in the living room watching sports or guy movies where they blow up things."

"Sounds like a late night."

"It might be. Bring a change of clothes for both of you. If you wind up staying, I'll even let you have a guest room with heat in it."

"You're too good to us."

"See you at six."

Ann ran out to the grocery store to get some things for dinner and for breakfast the next morning. By the time she returned, House was already back. She put away the groceries and got started on dinner.

House joined her in the kitchen and began chopping vegetables.

"You're sure you want to do that right now?" Ann asked.

"What?" House replied. "I washed my hands."

Ann rolled her eyes. "So, how did it go?"

"Okay. We confirmed our diagnosis."

"What was it?"

"The kid had a very rare, incurable genetic disease. Even if he had been diagnosed earlier, he would have died, anyway. Although he might have lasted longer and received more effective treatment for his symptoms."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

"Danielle and Robert are coming over tonight. I thought that after dinner we could watch 'Sleepless in Seattle' and then 'When Harry Met Sally.' "

"Oh, God."

"What?"

"I hate romantic chick flicks."

"I just thought something light and funny would be good, given the week you and Robert have had."

"I guess I should be glad you don't think like a guy, even though it's annoying in this instance. What makes us happy isn't sappy romantic comedies, it's movies where there are lots of explosions."

"Is that why you own 'Diehard' and all seven sequels on DVD?"

"First of all, they didn't make eight "Diehard" films, unfortunately. Although if they did, they'd probably have had to replace Bruce Willis at some point, since he's acquired a little too much mileage. Anyway, there's actually some romance in those films."

"What? Because he's destroying all those buildings and killing all those people to save his ex-wife? Couldn't he just buy her some really expensive chocolate instead? "

"If you were kidnapped by international terrorists, would you want your man to take them out, or would you want him to buy you a box of Godiva?"

"Hmm, let me think . . . seeing as how my guy is a world-famous diagnostician, I'd prefer he let the police handle the terrorists and make sure that I have some really good chocolate waiting for me when I returned home."

"You wouldn't even want me to blow up a single building?"

"No."

"How about a truck?"

"Nope."

"Not even a Smart Car?"

"No, not even a tricycle."

"You're no fun!"

They finished all the prep they could do in advance and put things in the refrigerator. It was about three.

"When are they coming over?"

"Around six."

"That's three hours . . . "

House and Ann retreated to the bedroom to enjoy some intense yet comforting sex. There was a lot of touching before, during and after. They took a nap and woke up at about five-thirty.

Chase and Danielle arrived at six-fifteen. The weather conspired to help Ann and Danielle with their plan. It had begun to snow, and three to five inches was predicted for the evening and overnight, so Danielle had a good excuse to pack a bag. Chase brought it in.

"Oh, God," House groaned when he saw Chase with the suitcase, "He's moving in!"

"In case you haven't noticed, it's snowing out there," Chase responded. "We're just trying to avoid having to drive home in bad weather."

"Why not just stay home in the first place?" House questioned.

"Greg," Ann admonished. "We invited them, remember?"

"Ever heard of a rain- or in this case, snow-check?" House asked Chase.

Chase ignored House and turned to Ann. "Where do you want me to put this?"

"Pick whichever guest room you like," Ann said, indicating the two rooms that shared a bathroom.

Chase and Danielle settled in the back room while Ann and House finished preparing the food.

Dinner was delicious, even if the conversation was somewhat lacking. Ann and Danielle attempted to fill in the gaps, but it was difficult.

Neither House nor Chase had exactly been chatty with their respective significant others when they were alone with them, but with everyone together, they were practically silent, except for talking about the most insignificant things.

When dinner was finished, Ann and Danielle cleaned up. They lingered in the kitchen, hoping House and Chase would go into the living room and turn on the TV. Not only did they do that, but they apparently put on an action flick. It gave Ann and Danielle the excuse they needed to retreat to the master bedroom and watch their chick flicks.

The first hour of the movie, House didn't say much more than, "Get me another beer." And Chase didn't say much more than, "I thought it was the host's responsibility to get drinks for the guest." This was usually followed by a snarky comment from House, and then Chase getting the beverages.

In one of the less action-packed sequences, Chase tentatively opened the conversation. "Too bad about that kid . . . "

"Well, he would have died, anyway."

"If someone had figured out what he had sooner, he could have lived longer and been in less pain."

"The symptoms were consistently misdiagnosed. Foster care kids don't exactly get the highest quality medical care."

"Did anyone ever find out what happened to his parents?"

"Nope. Although I did wonder . . . "

"What?"

"Well, this disease is rare enough and severe enough that it would be difficult not to be aware of it in a family."

"Are you saying that you think his parents either found out or suspected that he had it, and abandoned him because of it?"

"It's possible. In fact, it's a strong possibility."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I think if they came clean and admitted that they couldn't handle it and officially gave the kid up to someone who would take him, that would be one thing. But to just run away . . . "

"It takes balls to admit you aren't able to raise a kid. When a person decides that, it should be respected. Instead, people get dumped on, and it's easier to sneak away. Or, they pretend that they are willing to accept the responsibility, even when they are really absent."

"Or, they're around and they abuse the kid . . . "

Each man fell silent, thinking about this own less-than-happy childhood.

Things were being detonated left and right in the movie, but House and Chase were not even noticing the action.

"You wish your dad had manned up and admitted he wanted nothing to do with you?" House asked matter-of-factly. He'd decided while he was thinking about his own childhood that he really didn't want to talk about it with Chase, so he turned the focus to Chase's father.

"I wish he'd given a crap about me," Chase admitted. "But, for whatever reason, he didn't. And since he couldn't, it would have been easier if he'd abandoned me outright. Instead, I got to continue hoping he'd be a part of my life, only to be disappointed time after time. Hope can really suck sometimes."

"Tell me about it. Up until very recently, I thought hope was a totally wasted emotion."

"What changed?"

"There's this woman in the other room with horrible taste in movies . . . "

"And she has this friend . . . " Chase smiled slightly. "You said something before about a parent sticking around and abusing the kid. Your dad . . . he, um . . . "

"Abused me." House finished his sentence. He had wanted to deflect, but it was too late. He had already opened his mouth. Too many beers, probably.

"What did he do?"

"Ice baths. He'd make me sleep outside at night."

"Is that why you hate the cold so much?"

"I don't _hate_ the cold."

"No, you just spend four months of the year being miserable to your staff because of it."

"First of all, I'm miserable to my employees all the time, regardless of the temperature outside. Second, the reason the winter is bad for me is because of my leg. The cold makes it hurt more and the snow and ice are difficult for me to walk on without falling on my ass."

"If you say so . . . "

"You sound like you don't believe me."

"This physician-philosopher once told me, 'Everybody lies.' "

"All the crap I tell you, and you have to remember that?"

"It seems appropriate here."

"I'm not lying. The cold sucks for my leg."

"I remember in seminary school they used to talk about lies of omission."

"Being a pretty guy there must have been tough. I bet you were molested more than you would have been if you'd been an inmate in a maximum security prison."

"Nice try at deflection. We were talking about you and how you hate the cold because it reminds you of how your father abused you."

"And why are we talking about me and my childhood misadventures? You just admitted you didn't exactly have Robert Young for a father, either."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Let's just say your childhood wasn't from a storybook."

"True, although my dad never physically abused me. That would have required he actually be in my presence once or twice, so it never happened."

"You sound disappointed. You can't actually be envious of me because my father was around to mistreat me."

"At least he was around. Wasn't it okay when he was there and wasn't abusing you?"

"It might have been. But my 'happy' memories are obscured by other memories like the way my body would sting when he pushed me down in the ice water or the terror I felt when I was seven and outside by myself freezing in the dark or the way whatever object he was using to hit me hurt my ass so much."

"Sorry."

"Doesn't bother me at this point."

"Oh, come on . . . "

"I didn't mean the abuse itself. That's the gift that keeps on giving. What doesn't bother me is the comparison."

"What? What comparison?"

"I don't compare myself to other people anymore. I no longer envy people who appeared to have happier childhoods than I did. As bad as it was, I had the only childhood I could have had. No point in wishing for something else."

"I guess I'm not there yet."

"I'm a lot older than you, and I've had a few more things happen to me."

"Are you saying I need to have an infarction in my leg to put this all in perspective?"

"No, but it helps."

They fell silent for a moment.

The credits for the movie were rolling across the screen.

"Wanna watch another movie?" House asked.

"Okay," Chase replied.

House sent Chase to get some more beer while he got up and changed the DVD.

House was sitting on the couch when Chase returned. They settled back down and started drinking their beers.

After a few minutes, House spoke. "Was it really that bad not having a father around? Hell, I used to love it when mine was on assignment and I'd fantasize it was permanent."

"Yeah, it was _that _bad. And believing he might show up when I wanted him to was even worse."

"Well, you seemed to have survived it. I mean, you didn't turn out gay or a priest or anything."

"You know there are people, in opposite camps most likely, who would not view either of those things as a bad outcome."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with being gay. I'm just saying . . . "

"It wasn't completely terrible, I guess. You can survive it, if you find mentors. I joined the seminary at eighteen. There was this older priest there . . . "

"I'm not much for homoerotic stories, just to let you know, but if you feel compelled to share, try to keep it PG-rated, okay?"

"It wasn't _that_ kind of relationship. He was a mentor. He was actually pretty tough on me, but he stuck with me. He showed me that not every male authority figure in my life would abandon me."

"Tough on you, eh? Kind of prepared you for working for me, huh?"

"Nothing prepared me for working for you."

"Why did you come back after I fired you, then?"

"Cuddy made me when the new team quit."

"But you stayed after they came back."

Well, over the years, you've actually been nice to me few times."

"I have? When?"

"When you asked me to go bowling with you."

"That was because Wilson was otherwise occupied."

"I know. But you picked me instead of someone else."

"It's not like I had a lot of people to choose from. There's no way Taub or Foreman would have even considered going with me."

"Yeah, but Kutner would have been so eager he would have made a hungry puppy look calm."

They both fell silent at the mention of Kutner's name.

"Um, sorry for bringing that up," Chase apologized.

"I've gotten better about it after a year and a half of therapy," House responded. "You said I was nice to you a couple of times."

"You threw my bachelor party."

"And almost killed you with anaphylaxis."

"You didn't mean to do that."

"I knew about the strawberries. I should have remembered."

"You had other things you were dealing with at the time."

"Yeah, slowly going crazy will mess up your memory, I guess."

There was a another pause.

"You let me punch you and not get into trouble."

"Oh. Well, that only seemed right after I punched you and you didn't report me."

"And the whole Diabilia thing . . . "

"That was self-preservation. If you had gone down, I most likely would have, too."

"I doubt it. First of all, you were just back from Mayfield. Second, Foreman was in charge. Third, Cuddy would have protected you."

"I thought I taught you better than that."

"Huh?"

"You're not very observant."

"About what?"

"Let's just say Cuddy hasn't exactly been in the mood to 'protect' me since I left for Mayfield."

"Now that you say that, I see what you mean. Why not?"

"Don't know."

"I'd say it might be because she's with someone, but it's inexplicable why she'd date that guy. He's such a loser. And she started dating him right after you left."

"How did you know that, and why didn't you tell me?"

"What do you think we talk about during lengthy surgeries? Hospital gossip, of course. And I didn't tell you because I didn't work for you and we didn't exactly speak to each other very often. I wasn't about to walk up to an already unpredictable person who had just been released from a mental institution in a public area of the hospital and say 'You know that woman everyone thought you had feelings for? Well, she's in a relationship with someone else. Oh, and it's someone you know and maybe once considered sort of a friend. Have a nice day.' "

"How did you know I once considered him sort of a . . . whatever?"

"Wilson told me when he came back from the job he took at the other hospital after his bereavement leave. I think he was a little jealous. In any case, can you see why I didn't tell you?"

"Yeah. Oh, and it's not inexplicable."

"Really? How do you explain Cuddy being with that guy?"

"Well, she said at one point that she had feelings for me. I would guess that my going crazy made her disappointed in me. So, she turned to someone else."

"Seriously? It's not like you chose to go crazy, so why would she be disappointed in you? I can't imagine Ann doing anything like that. She'd be driving to the hospital every day to bring you soup and demanding conjugal visits."

"She would, wouldn't she?"

"And the guy Cuddy picked. Even if she didn't know when she started dating him, she had to know pretty quickly that he was a quasi-friend of yours, so she also had to know that hooking up with him would cause maximum pain on your side, even before she knew he was a sociopath."

"I think she still doesn't know he's a sociopath."

"Well, just because she's in denial about that doesn't absolve her."

"And, as a former seminary student, you're all about the absolution. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah . . . "

"If I'm so nice to you, how come you let Wilson pay you to hang out with me?"

"Damn! I know Wilson is your BFF, but sometimes he can be such an idiot. He actually told you he paid us to hang out with you?"

"I figured it out and he admitted it."

"He's still an idiot. Listen, I didn't want to get paid. I mean, I would have gone to that bar with you anyway. I did before when we went bowling."

"Then why did you take the money?"

"Because, like the idiot he is, Wilson asked Thirteen and me when we were in the conference room together. You know the reputation I have as a suck-up . . . "

"And well-deserved it is . . . "

"Thanks. But I just didn't want to look that way in front of her by refusing the money she was taking."

"So, if Wilson had asked you separately, you would have said 'no'?"

"Probably not."

"Wait . . . Didn't you just say . . . ?"

"Even if it had been just me, I would have taken it. Wilson is so, so . . . hyper-analytically annoying, especially when it comes to people's emotions and motivations. I just didn't want a twenty-minute probing about why I wasn't taking the money. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't keep it."

"Donated it to Catholic Charities in my name, did you?"

"Funny. No, I gave it to a homeless guy who reminded me of you."

"I hope you don't expect me to be flattered by that comparison."

"Well, you do sort of dress like a homeless guy . . . "

"No, this is a grunge look. Big difference."

"If you say so."

"You probably weren't helping him. He probably spent it on booze or drugs."

"Another way he made me think of you."

"So, you'll hang out with me even if no one pays you?"

"I'm here now. It's not like Ann slipped me a fifty or anything."

"You're just here because your girlfriend wanted to spend an evening with my significant other and you wanted to be with her."

"Sounds logical. Except that she's in another room and I'm here in this room with you."

"So, why do you want to hang out with me?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're smart and funny and interesting and you have good taste in movies."

"Is this the sucking up part now?"

"Sure is. And the best part is that it's a very subtle form of brown-nosing because it has the benefit of being true."

"There's something more here . . . "

"Yeah . . . "

"What?"

"I suppose you're not going to let this go, so . . . you've been good to me. You forgave me when I betrayed you to Vogler. You saved my career during that lawsuit. Even though it hurt, you made me see that Cameron and I weren't right for each other. I'd be a second-rate doctor except for everything I learned from you."

"So, I'm like your mentor-priest?"

"No, you're more like my father. At least the one I would have wanted. Tough, but there for me. Not abandoning me because there's something wrong with me . . . not letting me die in the arms of strangers . . . "

"Okay. That's way more than enough beer for you."

"Yeah, I guess . . . "

"Good thing you and your girlfriend are staying here tonight and not attempting to drive home."

"Definitely. What movie are we watching, anyway?"

"Damned if I know. We talked through most of it. Want to call it a night?"

"Sure. We just have to get the ladies to agree."

At that moment, Ann and Danielle walked into the living room.

"We're done for tonight," Ann declared.

"You finished both your movies?" Chase asked.

"Not the second one," Danielle replied. "But, it's a romantic comedy, so it's not like we can't predict the ending. They'll go through some hurdles and get together and live happily ever after. Just like real life."

"When she's with you, her sarcasm muscle always gets worked into fine form," Chase said to Ann. "Good job."

"You're welcome," Ann responded as turned towards House. "C'mon, big guy."

"Honey," House stated in his most unctuous voice, "You really shouldn't be discussing the size of my manhood in front of the children."

"Didn't need to hear that," Chase shouted over his shoulder as he and Danielle walked toward the guest room.

"Let's go," Ann said as she put out a hand to help pull House off the couch.

They retreated to their respective bedrooms for some adult activities. And then each couple spent the night snuggling together while the snow fell silently outside.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but it was a difficult chapter to write with the multiple POVs and trying to keep everyone at least somewhat in character. I wanted to finish with the party in this chapter, but I found I had some additional stuff and this was getting too long, so I'll finish it in Chapter 28 and then it's on to Christmas. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own House and his cohorts, but the OCs do belong to me!

Although it had snowed about three inches overnight, the weather warmed up enough by Sunday afternoon that most of it had melted, at least on all the hard surfaces.

So, Chase and Danielle were able to leave shortly after brunch. Ann did her usual Sunday afternoon cleaning, and House did laundry. He had noticed over the past month how it was becoming less his laundry and her laundry, and how things had just sort of become mixed together.

And, more of his clothes were staying at Ann's place as a result. In fact, a lot of his stuff had slowly migrated over, too. Except for his piano, his sound system, and some kitchen items, there really wasn't much left at his apartment except his furniture.

There was a time when House would have viewed this as a huge deal. He was always insisting that he needed his independence. But, between the time he had spent with Wilson, and now the time he was with Ann, he was becoming more and more used to the idea of sharing his space with someone else. It no longer terrified him. And, in the case of being with Ann, he actually looked forward to it.

Setting aside the five-year stint with Stacy, it had taken him over fifty years to realize that solitude was overrated. However, he wasn't sure how Ann felt about his near-constant presence. And he still had enough doubts about it not to mention anything before the holidays.

He knew if it wasn't busy at work - and it usually wasn't this time of year – and if there were any kind of bad weather, they would probably wind up spending a lot of concentrated time together. That would be a test, of sorts, he guessed. If they survived that, he would feel more confident about discussing any changes in living arrangements for the New Year.

House decided to set all that aside for now and focus on work. He had a case in the early part of the week that kept him occupied until Thursday. At least things worked out better this time and the patient was cured.

He spent Thursday afternoon and Friday in the clinic. He picked up his tux from dry cleaner guy on Friday afternoon when Ann was having her manicure and pedicure.

As they ate their dinner that night, House couldn't take his eyes off of Ann's hands. Not only were her nails very nicely done, her hands themselves were beautiful, too.

In bed that night, House loved the way her hands looked against his skin as she touched him everywhere. And, to his surprise and delight, he found her feet looked even better. And they were so soft and smooth. And her toes looked so delicious with the red polish on them. All this led to some intense toe-sucking and very sensual sex that night.

The next day they got up and ate a leisurely breakfast. Ann showered around noon and headed for the salon mid-afternoon, arriving home around four.

It was a mild day for December in New Jersey, but it was quite windy, so Ann put her scarf around her head as she walked from the car to the house to keep her hair from getting too wind-blown.

House was pulling a garment bag out of the hall closet as she entered the front door.

"Oma," House stated as he closed the closet door. "I thought you were dead."

"I just spent a hundred and fifty bucks for this hair and makeup and I'd like it to last at least until we get there, okay?" Ann asked, wanting to be annoyed, but unable to keep from smiling.

"I hope you're not expecting me to pay for any of that."

"Of course not. However, I had to take the money out of the Buy-Greg-A-Christmas-Present Fund."

"Hey, that's not fair!" House whined. "I'm going to go get ready."

To Ann's surprise, House headed toward the front guest room, carrying the garment bag, his shoes, and some clean socks and underwear. He closed the door. Ann heard the shower start.

Ann wondered briefly why he wouldn't get dressed in front of her, but she set those thoughts aside and headed to the master bedroom to finish getting ready.

* * *

At five-thirty, Chase arrived at the door of Danielle's apartment. He knew it was an extravagance, but he had purchased a new tux. It would have been too much bad karma to wear the one he had worn to his and Cameron's wedding.

He'd decided against the bow tie and was trying for a more contemporary look, with a long tie. It was also charcoal gray rather than black. If he couldn't pull off this non-traditional look at his age, he reasoned, when could he?

Chase saw Danielle's eye in the peephole of the door.

"Why didn't you just use your key?" she asked him as she opened the door. She was standing in the hallway of her apartment in her bra and panties.

"If it hadn't been me, would you still have opened the door like that?" Chase asked as he pulled her into his arms. "Pretty hot."

"There might not be a large group of people who would agree with you on that."

"Then they're just not seeing what I see." Chase leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, thus avoiding her perfectly painted lips. "Wanna ditch the party and do it until we're senseless?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I spent too much money on the dress, shoes, manicure, pedicure, hair and make-up to do that. Let me look at you."

Chase stepped back for her to see him. She walked around him with her hand traveling lightly across his shoulders.

"Damn!" she exclaimed.

"What?" he questioned.

"I'm going to have to beat every straight woman, bisexual and gay man with a stick to keep them away from you."

"I wouldn't worry about it. It hasn't exactly been a problem before. Go get dressed."

Danielle wanted to continue to ogle Chase, but she realized she had to get moving if they were going to make it to the party anywhere near on time. She went into her bedroom and emerged a few minutes later.

She was wearing a deep burgundy dress. It was gathered at the shoulder with a slight cap sleeve. It was fairly high in the back, but dipped quite a bit lower in the front, displaying Danielle's ample bosom. It was slightly fitted in the waist, curved around her hips and gently flared out to floor length. There was a slit up to her knee, displaying a large and shapely calf.

Her shoes were black sandals with a mid-high heel that showed off her immaculately pedicured toenails. She was wearing a matching wrap that draped softly around her upper arms. Her jewelry consisted of gold heart-shaped earrings, and a gold chain with an open heart-shaped gold pendant. The heart contained a good-sized deep red stone in a setting just inside and slightly off to the right of the bottom point.

"W-w-wow," Chase stammered.

"Does that mean it's good?" Danielle asked with in a voice that was both playful and tentative at the same time.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone so beautiful."

"That's a bit over the top, don't you think?" Danielle responded. "I mean, I've seen you look through an entertainment magazine every now and then. They're full of beautiful stars."

"Those pictures are airbrushed and totally fake. You're the most beautiful _real_ woman I've ever seen."

"What about your ex-wife?"

"What about her?"

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes. In a hyper-skinny, developmentally-delayed sort of way, I guess."

"What?"

"When I think about it now, I realize her body is like a little girl's. You're built like a woman. A real, beautiful, curvy, sexy woman."

"Thanks," Danielle blushed. "We should get going."

"If you insist," Chase replied with a smile.

* * *

Back at Ann's place, House emerged from the guest room in his tux. He had already checked himself out in the mirror on the back of the door in the bedroom and he had to admit he looked not bad. In fact, he looked pretty good considering what he'd done to himself over the years.

He had retrieved Ann's Christmas present and was holding it in his hand. He was about to go to the master bedroom when she came out into the hallway.

Ann put her hand up to her mouth in surprise.

"I didn't think you could look any sexier or more handsome," she whispered with awe in her voice, "But you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

House moved to stand closer to her. Her breathing was uneven. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

House was checking her out, too. She was wearing an emerald green dress that brought out the intense color of her eyes. The dress fit like a glove and accentuated all her assets. It dipped in the back, showing off her smooth skin. The fabric starting at her lower back was draped and went down to the floor, almost like a bustle, accentuating her already large posterior. House found it totally sexy. It was going to be tough to keep his hands away from that gorgeous ass.

The décolletage was heart-shaped, displaying enough to let everyone see how large and beautiful her breasts were, but not so much that she was in danger of a wardrobe malfunction. The dress pulled in quite a bit at the waist, putting emphasis on how small she was there, in addition to making her breasts, hips and behind look even more curvy than they already were. There was a slit up the side, exposing her firm, gorgeous legs. She was wearing gold, low-heeled sandals with thin straps that beautifully displayed her perfectly pedicured feet.

The only jewelry she wore was a heavy gold bracelet that draped elegantly across the top of her hand and a pair of moderately sized, gold teardrop earrings with a tiny design etched into them.

"What do you think?" Ann asked with a confidant tone. She could tell from the way House was checking her out and the positive noises he was making that he approved.

"You look elegant and beautiful," House replied. "And you're making my dick really hard."

"High praise, indeed."

"Just one thing, though."

"What?"

"Your neck seems awfully plain."

"I thought you wanted people to check out my boobs."

"And magnificent they are. But a little something there would draw even more attention."

Ann's eyes came to rest on the wrapped package in House's hand.

"What's that?" she asked him, pointing to the present.

"I got this for you for Christmas," House replied with a slightly nervous tone in his voice. "I thought you might like it early."

He handed it to her awkwardly, avoiding eye contact, which Ann found completely adorable. She tore off the paper and it fell to the floor. It was, of course, a velvet jewelry box. She flipped open the lid and looked at it.

"Oh, Greg," She murmured softly as she began to examine it. The hand not holding the box came up and hesitated before her finger stroked it gently.

"Don't fondle it," House said with impatience. "Put it on."

Ann removed it carefully. She put the box on the small table near the coat rack. She unclasped the necklace and turned so she was facing away from House. She moved the ends of the chain to the back of her neck.

"Give me a hand, please," she asked.

House grasped both ends and fastened the clasp. He softly kissed the back of her neck. Ann moved in front of the oval mirror in the foyer to see how it looked.

The necklace was made of gold, with a heavy, flat chain and a large, tear-drop emerald pendant hanging from it. The stone itself was a deep green and faceted so it caught light no matter how Ann moved. If the dress brought out the color of Ann's eyes, this emerald filled them with radiance like a dancing flame.

Just from the expression on Ann's face, House was pretty sure she liked it. She continued to look at herself in the mirror.

"No one has ever given me such a beautiful piece of jewelry," Ann said softly as she turned to look at House. "Thank you so much."

House was tremendously pleased with himself at that moment, and it made him smug. "The best present anyone ever gave you, huh?" House asked confidently.

"It's lovely, but no, not the best," Ann replied.

House didn't like the sound of that. He had seen most of her jewelry and nothing she owned right now was as expensive as this. Maybe her engagement ring? House became competitive. "A close second?"

"Not really."

The smugness had vanished. House began to feel really insecure. And depressed. He had tried to find something she would really like, and he had only come in second or possibly even worse. He had a fleeting feeling he should just call off the whole evening and go home. No, he decided, he wasn't going to give up that easily. At the very least, he wanted to know what (and who) came in first. "So, then, what was the best present you ever got?"

"The music you wrote for me for my birthday, of course."

That answer took House completely by surprise. He had spent a good amount on this jewelry – more than he had ever spent on a gift for anyone, including Stacy. He knew it was perfect with the dress and perfect for her. He knew she appreciated both the gesture and the actual gift. He was convinced that, at that moment, there was nothing that would have been better to give her.

And yet, as right as it all was, as perfectly fitting as she surely knew it to be, she was still happier with her other gift. The one he had created for her with his own talent and hands and heart. He had given her a piece of himself when he gave her the music, and she cherished it above all else. Which meant that she cherished _him_ above all else.

House felt the last remaining barrier he had put up to protect himself shatter into a million pieces. He knew then, with no uncertainty, that he would love this woman for the rest of his life. He had no idea if it would be difficult or easy, or if they would even be together in the end. But he knew that he would love her as long as he lived. No one else, ever again. Only her. His Annie.

"Greg, are you okay?" Ann had seen a strange light in House's eyes. A light she had never seen before. A beautiful, intense light that made the blue even deeper, and somehow made her feel happy.

House cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that had formed there. "I'm fine. Let's get on the road."

"Let's go, baby," she said, feeling her own throat close as she grabbed her coat.

* * *

Because of an incident the previous year, the hospital attorneys had informed Cuddy that this year, to avoid any liability from DUIs, DWIs or any resulting accidents, the Christmas party should not be held at PPTH, but at a local hotel, and that rooms should be made available for guests to use after the party.

The local high-end national hotel chain had been very receptive to the idea, since weekend occupancy was always lower, particularly during the holidays. They had offered a block of rooms at a reduced rate and included meal tickets for the Sunday brunch buffet the following morning. There was even valet parking.

In addition to House and Ann, everyone on House's team had decided to take advantage of the deal. Chase went with Danielle, of course. Due to the public nature of the event, Taub was pretty much forced to go with his wife, not that he minded that much. It was certainly much easier than trying to find a date.

Foreman and Hadley had attended a seminar at another local hospital in October, and both had been dating people they met there. So, Foreman was attending the party with a pulmonologist named Martha, and Hadley was attending with a dermatologist named Amanda.

Of course, Cuddy and Lucas were there. Cuddy had booked a room for them, and an adjoining room for Rachel and Marina. Marina had arrived and checked in earlier so that Rachel could take her afternoon nap undisturbed and Cuddy and Lucas could get ready at home without being interrupted.

Cuddy looked stunning in a new designer dress she had purchased for the party. It was terribly expensive, but she was the head of the hospital and it was expected that she look her absolute best. Rachel had been sick the week before the party and Cuddy hadn't had much sleep. She had applied a little extra makeup in an effort to hide the deepening lines and the circles under her eyes as best she could.

Lucas was dressed in a rented tux. He had been on a stake-out all week and also looked tired. He had not tried on the tux after he picked it up, and when he put it on just before the party, it really didn't fit properly. It was a little too short in the pants and sleeves, and it was quite snug in the waist. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. As they left for the hotel, he noticed the disapproval in Cuddy's eyes. Nothing he could do about that, either.

Wilson and Sam arrived on time. Sam was wearing a dress that Wilson was sure she had paid quite a bit for. The trouble was that it just didn't look right on her. Yes, her muscular arms were displayed very nicely, but it was also obvious in this dress she had virtually no boobs or hips to speak of. It was off-white, which emphasized the yellow undertones in her skin and made her look slightly ill. It also didn't work with the near-white color of her bleached blond hair, making her look even more washed out.

Wilson had lost weight in the six months since House had moved out because Sam hated to cook, didn't really like Wilson's cooking, and refused to eat take out. That was the good news. The bad news was that Wilson's tux no longer fit. It was too big in the waist and he hadn't realized that until he put it on. It was too late to have it altered. He could cover up some gaps in the waist with the cumber bund, which could be pulled tighter, but it looked a little lumpy in the back as a result. He hoped the jacket would cover it.

* * *

Cocktails and appetizers were being served from six-thirty to eight. House insisted they be on time because there was an open bar, and he wanted to maximize his food and booze intake before the formal, sit down dinner.

The cocktail portion of the party was held in a ballroom decorated with a winter theme. House stood at one of the pub tables, chatting with Danielle and Chase.

"You look great, Greg," Danielle commented.

"I've been told I clean up well," House responded.

"That tux is a little out there, isn't it?" House questioned Chase. "I thought good Catholic boys were more traditional."

"I haven't been a 'good Catholic boy' for years," Chase replied, causing Danielle to giggle.

"Just because you're not wearing a bow tie doesn't exactly make you a gangsta," House informed him.

Ann approached with a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"What did you get for everyone else?" House asked as he grabbed one of the forks she was carrying and dove into the food.

"Greg!" Ann protested. "That was supposed to be for all of us."

"You know I'm crappy at sharing," House reminded her through a mouthful of food. "You can have some, I guess." He pushed the half-eaten plate toward Ann.

"That's just so appetizing," Ann remarked as she looked over the now-agglomerated comestibles.

"I'll get some more," Chase interjected.

"And I'll get some drinks," Danielle volunteered.

They returned promptly with more provisions. With House's insistence that they take full advantage of the cocktail period, he hadn't considered the toll standing would take on his leg. Ann became aware of it a little while later when she was returning with additional drinks and saw his leg shaking slightly.

She had hoped for one slow dance with him later, so she had to take quick action. She put the drinks on the table and found someone from the wait staff and explained that they were in need of a chair. He indicated a couple of chairs placed along the wall in the back of the room under a large handicapped placard.

Ann knew House would hate the idea, but she really wanted that dance. She returned to the table. She leaned into House and whispered in his ear, trying to make it look as sensuous as possible. She licked and nibbled on his earlobe, both to give a sexy impression to anyone who was watching, and also to make House more likely to do what she wanted him to. They grabbed their drinks and headed for the chairs.

What happened the next forty-five minutes would be talked about around the water coolers and break rooms of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for the next week, for the rest of the month and into the New Year. House took a seat on one of the chairs and Ann flagged down one of the people carrying hors d'oeuvres and grabbed a few off the tray. She brought them over to House and sat on his lap (technically, his left leg). She began to feed him the food, making sure to kiss him between each bite.

As they sat there, Ann caressed House's face and kept kissing him on the lips and cheeks. She ran her fingers through his hair and stared deeply into his eyes. Even to the casual observer, these two people looked like they were deeply in love. And when it came to House and the hospital grapevine, there were no casual observers.

The wait staff kept bringing appetizers and Ann and House kept feeding each other. While she ate, he made sure to kiss and nip at her neck.

Ann got up after about fifteen minutes. She was concerned that her sitting on his lap for too long would fatigue his good leg. There was still about a half-hour to go until they could be seated for dinner, and she didn't want House to stand for that length of time. She left him briefly to get food. When she returned, she carefully sat down on the floor between his legs. She rested her head on his leg and looked up at him. House fed them as she sat there, leaning down to kiss her between bites.

They were touching each other a lot. House was caressing her face and her throat. At one point, Ann began to run her hands on the inside of House's thighs. As much as he enjoyed it, he was forced to tell her to stop to prevent himself from exploding.

Of course, all of this was being observed by the other partygoers.

Foreman didn't care at all about House's personal life, but he knew if House was getting some, he'd be in a much better mood, which meant he'd be less of a pain in the ass to work with. So, Foreman was pleased. He also noticed his date staring quite a bit, and he hoped she was getting some ideas for later.

Hadley wasn't sure when she invited Amanda to the party if she and her date would be the center of unwelcome attention, especially considering most of the major donors who would be attending were over fifty and more likely to disapprove of a same-sex couple. She didn't care, of course, but she did care about Amanda and didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. So, House and Ann's behavior was taking the focus away from them, which was excellent. Anyway, life was short and you should enjoy it while you could, and what was more enjoyable than sex? _Good for you, House_, she thought.

Taub did his best to ignore the situation, but he found that everyone was talking about it. After a while, it occurred to him that he could use this to his advantage. Women loved gossip, and he imagined that as a member of House's staff, he would be sought out to provide more details. And, once a conversation about an interesting topic was started, who knew where it would lead?

Chase was more than a little embarrassed by the whole thing and tried to avoid looking. Danielle knew why and did her best to engage him. They were traveling to upstate New York in a couple of weeks to spend the holiday with Danielle's family. Danielle decided to prepare him, not that anyone could truly be prepared to meet her relatives. She began to regale him with tales of strange happenings in past Christmases and the bizarre yet amusing Christmas traditions of her family. Before long, Chase was laughing and paying no attention to Ann and House. Chase realized what Danielle was doing and decided he would have to show her his appreciation later in their hotel room.

Wilson was watching and beginning to feel genuinely depressed. The sex with Sam was fine. Okay, it was adequate. But there was nothing like the connection he was seeing going on between House and Ann. Wilson was hard pressed to remember a time in the last several months when he and Sam had engaged in any sensuous behavior at all. Their relationship had become boringly routine.

Cuddy noticed what was going on as well. She tried to ignore it, and distract herself by mingling with staff and donors, but she could feel her jealousy and anger rising. Lucas didn't help matters by hovering and incessantly asking what was wrong. And he was terrible about taking hints to leave her alone. She was forced to be blunt and tell him to just go away.

Finally, it was time for dinner to be served. Ann got up carefully and offered her hand to House. He took it, pulled himself up and drew her arm through his. They walked into the adjoining ballroom where the tables were set up and waiting for dinner.

* * *

The tables were set for ten, which worked perfectly to accommodate House, his team and the people they escorted. House felt a small pang when he saw Wilson sitting at Cuddy's table nearby, but he got over it the minute he saw Sam sit beside him. House thanked a God he didn't believe in for not having to spend the evening sitting near that witch.

"Is that Sam The Guitar Destroyer?" Danielle asked Ann as she and Chase sat down.

"The very same," Ann replied.

"Is she sick or something?" Danielle questioned. "She looks really pale."

"I think it's just a bad color on her," Ann responded. "Although, it does make her look like the undead, which is fitting."

"I think that's an insult to vampires," Danielle quipped.

Introductions were made as the other couples arrived at the table. Foreman and his date sat down after Chase and Danielle.

"Martha. That's a great name, even though you don't hear it very much any more," Ann observed. "I had a Great Aunt Martha, I think."

"My mom went through this period of researching the family genealogy in the 70s," Martha stated. "She never could trace it back to Africa, like she wanted to, but she discovered an escaped slave named Martha in the family tree, and she named me after her."

"No one better start humming the theme from 'Roots,' " House interjected.

"I see what you mean about how 'charming' your boss is," Martha said under her breath to Foreman.

Taub and Rachel joined the table next.

"A little out of place for you to be at a _Christmas_ party, don't you think?" House questioned.

"And I guess it's okay for you because you're such a devout Christian," Taub countered.

"Are you holding out on me?" Ann asked.

"Hell, no!" House exclaimed.

"In the interest of full disclosure," Ann informed him, "I almost joined a Lutheran church when I moved to New Jersey."

"What?" House asked incredulously. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I thought it would be great to get to sing Bach every Sunday morning," Ann responded.

"What stopped you, then?" Chase asked.

"You mean other than my Catholic Bavarian ancestors spinning in their graves at the idea of one of their descendants voluntarily associating with the descendants of Protestant Prussians?" Ann questioned rhetorically, "It was my atheism. I just couldn't make myself do it, even with the music."

"Now that's more like the girl I love," House stated proudly. He looked around the table at everyone grinning. "What?"

"You said you were in love," Hadley observed as she sat down with Amanda.

"A woman looking so butch shouldn't be commenting on heterosexual relationships," House stated as he drew attention to Hadley's choice of a formal pant suit for her attire.

"Your deflections used to be less obvious, House," Taub noted.

"That's what being in love will do to you," Foreman added with a smirk.

House was about to offer a snarky comeback when the salad course arrived.

The dinner itself went reasonably well. The food was good, and the conversation was interesting enough for House to behave himself. As they finished dessert, the DJ began to play music.

To get things going in the first set, there was no slow music. Ann and House sat at the table while everyone else got up to dance.

"You could dance with Chase or something," House remarked as his team headed for the dance floor. "As long as I can see light between you, that is."

"Thanks for your permission, Sister Immaculata," Ann responded with a grin. "But, I don't want to dance with anyone except you. Besides, I don't think Danielle is going to allow it."

"Why not?" House asked.

"Because if she lets me, I 'm sure she thinks all the other women who want to dance with Chase will start cutting in."

"Not to mention Nurse Jeffrey."

* * *

After the first set, everyone returned and Ann and Danielle headed for the ladies' room. On their way back, they passed by Cuddy's table.

"Wow, those have to be two of the fattest asses I've ever seen," Lucas remarked loudly enough for everyone at House's table and the table on the other side to hear.

Danielle kept walking to their table and sat down, in an attempt to ignore the remark. Apparently, Ann was in a different mood and turned to face Lucas. House was up from his chair and standing beside her in an instant.

"Is that supposed to make me feel badly?" Ann asked with a sneer in her voice. "Am I supposed to wilt like a delicate flower?"

"Telling a woman she has a huge ass and that she's wearing a dress that makes it look even bigger sure as hell isn't a compliment," Lucas stated arrogantly.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," Ann began. "I was assaulted by three men, and, not only did I survive, I made sure each one of those scumbags went to prison by going through the pain and humiliation of testifying at their trial, which was like being attacked all over again. If you think some passing comment from a pathetic little coward like you is going to upset me, think again. Oh, and one more thing. I know what you did to Greg, and if you ever so much as think of coming near him again, or doing anything to anyone else I care about, you'll be under arrest before the day is over."

In order to get through the evening, Cuddy had been drinking quite a bit of wine. Or, at least that was what everyone assumed when she jumped up and confronted Ann. "You leave him alone, bitch. You're the one who's dating a drug addict!"

"You know Greg hasn't used drugs for a year and a half, because you insisted on random drug tests just so you can get off on exercising power over him, which you need to do because your boytoy is so bad in bed he isn't getting you off," Ann said icily. "And why you haven't been fired for dating a criminal is beyond me. The entire hospital board must be screwing you for you to get away with that." Ann and House turned and left a sputtering Cuddy as they walked back and sat down at the table.

"House has tenure, right?" Taub asked Foreman nervously. "Or should I be updating my resume?"

House had the largest smile anyone had ever seen on his face.

"That was a thing of beauty, Annie," House told her. "I can die a happy man now."

"Not yet," Ann responded. "I still haven't told off Sam."

For the first time anyone could remember, House laughed. Not a sly smile or a small chuckle, but a genuine laugh. He leaned in and gave Ann a passionate, open mouth kiss with all kinds of tongue.

The rest of the evening was non-confrontational after that. House danced two slow dances with Ann. As House explained to Ann later, they weren't really dances. It was just an opportunity for House to hold Ann on the dance floor, and, as House so elegantly put it, "Publicly feel you up to a back beat."

House was in such a good mood, he even joined her for a fast dance. Actually, he stood on the dance floor and she danced around him, but it was still enjoyable for him to watch her shake her tits and ass, and observe the envy of the other men.

However, the most surprising part of the evening came near the end of the party. Everyone was sitting at the table, ready to head up to their rooms when the table on the other side of Cuddy's began to clear out. House hadn't realized it, but the table consisted of the head nurses from several of the hospital's departments. Before each nurse left, she came over to the table and hugged Ann, thanked her for her work on the patient filing system, and wished her happy holidays. Brenda was the last in line, and after embracing Ann, she even shook House's hand.

House's team, and Wilson, who was observing from the adjacent table, were surprised and amused. Cuddy, on the other hand, was livid.

Lucas attempted to figure out why Cuddy was so mad in the elevator ride up to their room.

"So, they like the woman that they think made their lives a little easier with a stupid computer system," Lucas commented. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," Cuddy almost growled, "Isn't the computer system or whether the nurses liked it or not!"

"Well, then what is it?"

"Don't you get it? Going over to her and hugging her in front of me like that, after she insulted me, was a rebuke."

"What do you care? You're their boss. You can fire their asses if you want."

"No, I can't. They have a union. I can't just go firing them because I'm angry."

"Well, even if you can't fire them, so what?"

"The 'so what' is that they were demonstrating very clearly to me that they respect her more than they respect me. And I can't be an effective boss if my employees don't respect me. All the board members know that, and every board member saw how they treated me."

"I can help you fix this, Lisa . . . "

"What, like you 'fixed' the situation after Wilson bought the condo? Please! This woman doesn't work for me and she made it perfectly clear she won't hesitate to come after you if you do anything. Do me a huge favor and just keep your damn head down and stay out of this, will you?"

The elevator reached their floor. Cuddy went quickly to their room, opened the door and let it close. Lucas had to run to reach the door before it shut to avoid being locked out in the hallway. He figured Cuddy would be in no mood to let him in. He also figured there was one other thing Cuddy was in no mood for, either.

* * *

Wilson and Sam had just arrived at their room when there was a knock on the door. Sam opened it and found a hotel staff member holding a rather large piece of chocolate lava cake. She accepted it reluctantly.

"James," Sam asked, "Did you order this from room service?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Are you really that hungry after all that food we ate?"

"I thought we could share."

"You can have this and regain all that weight you lost," Sam admonished, "But I'm not going to eat any of this. Maybe people don't care if their oncologist is fat. But their cardiologist has to be in good shape."

Sam put the plate on the table in the room and headed toward the bathroom to get undressed.

So much for Wilson's plan to spend some time sensuously feeding Sam. What woman in her right mind turned down chocolate, _warm_ chocolate, no less? _Might as well just go to sleep_, Wilson thought as he got undressed and climbed into bed. He was snoring softly by the time Sam finished in the bathroom. She climbed into bed and went to sleep herself.

* * *

"I know you were concerned about bringing me to this party, Remy," Amanda told Hadley as they got ready for bed.

"You know it's not you and me, right?" Hadley reassured her. "It's just that these parties are as much for the donors as the staff, and some of them are pretty conservative."

"I know," Amanda acknowledged. "I have to say it's a good thing your boss and his girlfriend are such characters."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Hadley smirked. "But I'm not here to talk about them . . ."

"Now that you mention it, neither am I," Amanda said pushed Hadley on the bed and began to kiss her.

* * *

"I know he's a pain in the ass to work for," Rachel told Taub, "But you must admit it's not boring."

"I just hope he keeps his job, so I can keep mine," Taub responded.

"You remember when we were first going out and we were like that?" Rachel questioned. "We couldn't keep our hands off each other, either."

"Yeah," Taub said, even though he really couldn't remember. "I still love you, you know."

"I know," Rachel responded. "I love you, too."

* * *

"For a not young guy, your boss is pretty randy," Martha noted.

Foreman snorted.

"What?" Martha asked.

"Considering he hasn't been with anyone but hookers for about ten years, I guess so. All I care about is that he'll be easier to deal with at work if he's getting it regularly."

"Speaking of getting it . . . " Martha said as she slipped her arms around Foreman's neck and began to kiss him.

* * *

"I hate to unwrap this beautiful package," Chase stated, "But I know what's underneath is even more gorgeous. Oh, and thank you."

"Thank you for the compliment. And why are you thanking _me_?" Danielle questioned.

"For the diversion when House and Ann were, um, you know . . . "

"No problem. I am a little concerned, though."

"Why?"

"Because I like hanging out with both my friend and my boyfriend, and I don't think Ann and House's PDAs are going to stop. If tonight is any indication, they're going to get more intense. And as many stories as I have about Christmas with my family, the well is going to run dry eventually. I can't keep distracting you forever."

"I know. I just have to figure out how to deal with it, that's all."

"Do you have any memories of your parents being affectionate?"

"Not with each other. My dad was all over my step mom, which was just gross, considering she's about thirty years younger than him."

"Do you think that has anything to do with why it bothers you so much?"

"Probably. Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Sorry. What do you want to talk about?"

"I'd rather not talk at all," Chase replied as he embraced Danielle and gave her a passionate kiss.

"No talking . . . " Danielle murmured absentmindly as she returned the kiss.

* * *

House and Ann barely made it through the door of the room before they started kissing. A minute later they began shedding clothes, all the while continuing their liplock. Seven minutes after that they were down to their underwear, and three minutes after that they were in their birthday suits.

House really didn't understand his own urgency, but he felt like if he didn't start banging her _right now_ he was going to explode.

As usual, Ann's needs seemed to mirror his own. She felt like she would come apart if she didn't have him inside her immediately.

House touched her briefly, just to make sure she was ready. When he felt her wetness and heard her moan with need, he almost came apart himself.

When she uttered, "Please fuck me, Greg," he thrust inside her.

As House pushed himself in and out, it felt like every muscle inside Ann was twitching and clutching at him. The stimulation was unbelievable. House felt Ann's legs around his waist. They were becoming tighter and tighter as her climax approached. It took every ounce of will House had not to come in response to her orgasm, as her body spasmed all around him with an intensity he never felt before.

He distracted himself momentarily by biting her neck. She reciprocated by biting him on a very tender spot a little below his ear. They both knew they were leaving marks, but in the passion of the moment, they hardly cared.

When her second orgasm hit, House lost even the modicum of control he had been maintaining. He emptied himself deep inside her, feeling her body continue to grasp at him.

He stayed inside her until he was soft and then slipped out. They pulled each other as close as they possibly could and waited for sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: A short-ish, transition chapter, with a few useful plot points. I hope it isn't too choppy.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own House, But the OCs Are Mine!

What they anticipated - a deep, restful sleep - didn't arrive.

They lay in bed together for a good half-hour, expecting to drift off, and surprised when it didn't happen.

Ann broke the silence. "Because you're a brilliant man, you've probably figured out that I can't sleep."

"With my frontal lobe tied behind my back," House responded.

"Do you mind talking for a while?"

"Depends on what we talk about."

"Okay. Did you see the look on Doctor Cuddy's face when those nurses came to wish me happy holidays?"

"Not to mention the look when you told her she was only getting away with having with Lucas as her main squeeze because the hospital board must be banging her."

"I probably shouldn't have said that. I really don't want to alienate anyone on the board. Although it certainly could be true . . . "

"You mean that she's doing it with all the board members?"

"Not that specifically. But she very well could be getting something on the side. I think it's actually more sexually frustrating to be in a relationship that doesn't satisfy you than to be celibate. I know it was for me."

"Mr. Income Statement didn't do it for you, huh?"

"Actually, he wasn't bad in bed. He just got tired of trying to have sex with a drunk. Poor guy."

"You have a lot more compassion for your ex than most other human beings do. Did you ever think once you got sober that you would get back together again?"

"No, because I didn't really love him to begin with. And on his side, once you've dealt with all the crap that comes from being with an addict, it's hard to get back those loving feelings."

"I guess that's why Cuddy moved on with Lucas. She just didn't want to deal with my addiction and craziness."

"You had a relationship with her? Well, that certainly explains her jealousy and hostility towards us . . . "

"It wasn't a relationship. At least I don't think it met the definition of one. We knew each other at Michigan when I was in med school and she was an undergrad. We slept together once. I got kicked out of school and left. We didn't see each other for years. She was the one who told Stacy about the debridement procedure when I had the infarction. I think she always felt guilty about the results of the surgery because she suggested it. She hired me after that. When Stacy left, we started this sort of, um, I don't really know how to describe it . . . "

Ann allowed House to collect his thoughts. She was dying to know what he would say, but she knew she had to be patient or he could shut down.

". . . Anyway, we spent a lot of time verbally sparring. I used to think there was at least some sexual chemistry between us. But I never slept with her because she's my boss, although we came close a couple of times before I went to Mayfield. It was all so damn complicated. She'd help me and then tell me to go to hell. She'd pull me into her life and then push me away. Just in the last year and a half – she took up with Lucas when I was in Mayfield, she hid it from me when I came back, then when I found out about it she shoved it in my face, then she said she wanted to be friends. Even before Lucas, it was weird. After she started fostering her kid, she took family leave. For who knows what bizarre reason, she put Cameron in charge . . . "

"Chase's ex, the one who had the crush on you?"

"Yep. Anyway, when Cameron couldn't 'handle' me to Cuddy's satisfaction, Cuddy came back. She blamed me for making her return too soon, and she did things . . . "

"Wait, what 'things'?"

"She put an 'Out of Order' sign on all the elevators when I came in, so I had to walk the four flights up to my office. She stole my cane. And she set a tripwire in my office . . . "

"W-w-what?" Ann was completely dumbfounded. If she didn't know House well enough by now to know when he was joking, she would have assumed he was kidding her. "She actually did that? Isn't that stuff illegal?"

"Probably. But that wasn't the worst of it."

"Oh my God! Not the worst of it? What did she do, shoot you?"

"You know that I'm used to pain, so the physical stuff wasn't so bad."

"Oh, Greg . . . " Ann reached over to take his hand. "What happened?"

"I was hallucinating from the Vicodin for a while before I went to Mayfield, but I was aware of it."

"How?"

"Because I was talking to Amber, and I had kept enough of my wits to know she was dead. Anyway, what finally made me realize I needed help was a delusion I had involving Cuddy."

Ann remained silent as House paused, gathering himself to share his most painful, mortifying memory. She started to lightly rub his hand.

"I knew I needed to quit the Vicodin. So, I went home and tried, or so I thought. I was taking so much I became delusional and I thought I was actually detoxing, and Cuddy was helping me. I thought we had sex . . . "

"Wow. How did you find out it wasn't real?"

"I went to speak to her about it, and when she had no idea what I was talking about, I figured out it didn't happen. I knew then I could no longer distinguish reality from fantasy, and I went to Mayfield."

"Why is this so painful? You couldn't help what your brain created."

"No. But I was in Cuddy's office when I realized what was happening. I told her my delusion while we were waiting for Wilson to come and get me and take me to the hospital. So she knew what was happening to me. I was released from the hospital in late summer. That fall, Wilson, Cuddy and I went to a medical conference in the Adirondacks. At Wilson's urging, I had been trying to ask Cuddy out. I went to her hotel room to offer to babysit her daughter, so she would see me as someone who was responsible. Lucas was in the room. That's how I found out that she was dating him."

"Ouch."

"That wasn't the worst part. We all had breakfast together the last day of the conference. Lucas told us he knew about the content of the delusion. He said it was embarrassing for me because not only was it fake, but that I had imagined Cuddy as my savior. Of course, Cuddy was sleeping with him, not me. So, there I was looking like an idiot for wanting her . . . "

House stopped. He wanted some kind of reaction from Ann. He hoped she'd get all angry and then he'd get excited. Then, they could have hot, sweaty sex and it would distract him from the whole humiliating episode.

Ann was quiet for several moments, but House noticed she was taking several deep breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Ann admitted. "I haven't felt like this since the attack."

"You're scared?" House asked, puzzled.

"No. After the attack was over, I felt rage. Ice cold rage. I'm feeling the same thing right now. That woman and that man are lucky I'm not willing to risk imprisonment for them, otherwise, they'd both be seriously hurting."

"Take it easy. It's not that big a deal."

"You offered yourself to her at your most vulnerable and beautiful. She betrayed you by using that exquisite gift to impress her new boyfriend, like some self-centered, spoiled tween. And then he, being one of the most asshol-ish human beings to ever walk the planet, used what she had given him to mock you about being sick and fragile, in service of nothing but boosting his own ego. I'd say that's a big deal. I'd say it was one of the worst things I'd ever heard."

"This isn't helping . . . "

"I know. And it's not like I could do anything that would. All I can say is that I understand what it means when you share things like this with me. I know what a precious gift I'm receiving. It's your soul – your bottomless, beautiful soul - being placed in my hands. I'm honored and I treasure it."

House had no idea what to say to that. His heart was melting in his chest. He simply put his arms around her and held her for a while.

House took a deep breath. There was one more thing he wanted to her to know. Might as well do it now.

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay."

"You know that music I wrote for you?"

"My amazing birthday gift? Yes, baby."

"You're not the first person I ever wrote music for . . . "

"Seeing as how you're a musician and over fifty, I would guess not. I'm sure it was a great way to pick up women in high school and in college. Probably re-cycled the same song a few times, too."

"Damn. You're good."

"Thanks. But I'm guessing you didn't mention this just to see how well I grasp the obvious."

"Um, I wrote some music for Cuddy a little less than two years ago."

"Really? Did she like it? Or did she somehow figure out a way to make you feel badly about it?"

"I never played it for her. She doesn't even know it exists."

"Well, given what's happened between you in the last two years, not to mention Lucas The Evil One being in the picture, it's probably best that she doesn't know about it."

"My thoughts exactly."

"So why did you tell me?"

"I have the sheet music buried somewhere. I just didn't want you to come across it and wonder what it was or when I wrote it, especially now that you know I was once attracted to her. I didn't want to surprise you or get you upset or anything."

"That was very kind of you."

"Don't say that. I have a reputation to protect. Are you feeling any better?"

"I've calmed down, if that's what you mean. What they did to you was appalling, and I don't see how I'll ever change my mind about that."

"As you pointed out, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"I know. I'll try to let it go."

"When you figure out how to do that, let me know so I can, too."

"We could distract ourselves with sex."

"I like the way you think. But I 'm pretty sure I don't have another round in me just yet."

"Would it be okay if I held you for a little while?"

House said nothing, but he put his head on Ann's shoulder. She put her arms around him and stoked his back.

* * *

They hoped for sleep, but it still wasn't forthcoming for either of them.

"Thanks for my Christmas present," Ann said.

"You're welcome," House responded. "And let me just say how superb it looked, nestled perfectly between your gorgeous tits."

"Thank you. Oh, by the way, I've already figured out what I want for Valentine's Day."

"Really? I hope it isn't a matching set of earrings because I don't think my cash flow will have recovered by then."

"Not what I was thinking. Actually, the ultimate cost of this would be a lot more than the price of a pair of emerald earrings."

"What do you mean? Is it a really expensive vacation or something?"

"Nope."

"Well, what is it then?"

"On February 14, I want to have been off the pill for about eight weeks, for you to have a raging hard-on that can only be relieved by multiple, barrier-free sexual climaxes inside me and for me to be ovulating."

House lifted his head from Ann's shoulder and looked into her eyes. His gaze almost bore a hole through her. Ann thought he was trying to determine if she was telling him what she truly desired. He must have been convinced, because when he spoke, he was quiet, but intense.

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

"And you're sure that you want it with me?"

"With all my heart. And every other part of me, too."

House sighed and put his head back down on Ann's shoulder. For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, he felt utterly and completely loved by this woman. He was about to tell her he loved her in return, but mere words wouldn't be enough.

He rolled away from her to his side of the bed. He got up slowly and went around to her side of the bed. He held out his hand for her to take, and he gently pulled her up. He led her into the bathroom. He let go of her hand and began to look into her toiletry bag. He found what he wanted and pulled it out.

Ann watched silently as he held the mostly unused blister pack in his hands. He pushed what was left of the pills out through the foil backing and they fell into the toilet. House flushed and threw the empty pack into the trash can.

He turned to her and held open his arms. She fell into them. After a few moments, House could feel wetness on his chest where her face was buried. He pulled her in even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

"You're crying because you're happy about this, right?" House asked, in an attempt to re-assure himself.

"Yeah," Ann croaked.

"You know we'll need to do something about birth control for the next two months. I have some condoms left, but I'll need to hit the drug store on the way home tomorrow."

"I'm going to hate not being able to feel you inside me. Maybe I could get fitted for a diaphragm."

"Okay."

"Let's go back to bed."

Sleep did finally come a short time later, with their bodies entwined in sheer contentment.

* * *

Because they hadn't had much sleep that night, Ann and House slept late and almost missed brunch the next morning. They managed to check out and make the last seating at eleven-thirty. They soon discovered that most of partygoers from PPTH had already left. They were sitting alone at a large table when Brenda and her spouse asked if they could join them.

"Oh, so you're That Jackass House," Brenda's husband Paul said when he was introduced.

"That's me," House responded. "And you must be the masochist who married Brenda."

"Uh-huh," Paul agreed.

Brenda ignored them and turned to talk to Ann. "Guess what? There's a rumor that Doctor Cuddy left early this morning with her nanny and Rachel. She was arguing with Lucas and they went in separate cars."

"Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble in paradise," Ann stated.

"Paradise?" Brenda snorted. "If I make it to heaven after I die and Lucas is there, I'll ask for my money back."

Even House The Atheist got a small smile out of that one.

"I also heard," Brenda said conspiratorially, "That Doctor Wilson and Doctor Carr were fighting when they left. Apparently, she was criticizing his selections from the dessert table."

"Gee, who wouldn't want to have everything you eat be scrutinized by The Diet Police?" Paul questioned as he tucked into his bacon.

"Just another of Sam's many charms, I guess," Ann interjected. "Any other good gossip?"

"Just positive stuff," Brenda replied. "Doctor Foreman was holding hands with his date when they left . . . "

"Man," House remarked, "For Foreman, that's the PDA equivalent of posting a sexual encounter on YouTube."

"Doctor Hadley and her date were embracing each other in the check out line at the front desk," Brenda stated.

"Damn," House exclaimed, "A real-life 'L' Word' scene and I missed it!"

"What about Robert and Danielle?" Ann asked out of curiosity for her friend.

"All over each other," Brenda answered. "My understanding is that they were going at it so hot and heavy that everyone who saw them thought they were going to have sex in front of them."

Ann smiled.

"And I see you two enjoyed each other at some point during the night," Brenda commented.

"What makes you say that?" Ann inquired.

"You mean other than the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other during the entire party?" Brenda answered rhetorically. "How about those enormous hickeys you both have?"

Instinctively, both House's hand and Ann's hand went to the respective spots on their necks they had from the previous evening's activities. They looked at each other and smiled.

"I just hope they've faded by tomorrow, or Doctor Cuddy is going to be a bitch on wheels," Brenda noted.

"If not, we'll wear turtlenecks," Ann said. Although she'd had no problem giving Cuddy what for the previous night, she really didn't want to exacerbate the situation any further. She was hoping to be done with the software installation and testing by the end of January at the latest, and she didn't want to do anything else to jeopardize that.

* * *

House somehow knew what she was thinking, even though he waited until they got home to say anything.

"You're not going to be working at the hospital after January, are you?" he asked after he had started the laundry and she was finished with her Sunday cleaning.

"If there aren't any major glitches, I'll be pretty much finished."

"What are you going to do after that?"

"I'll have to start another software project."

"Here in New Jersey?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what Danielle is working on here, and we may get contracts elsewhere in the country."

"Are you leaving, then?" House hadn't intended to sound so angry, but I came out that way.

Ann heard the hurt in his voice. "You're going to get me pregnant, remember? I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, then how can you work on a contract somewhere else?"

"I guess I'll be racking up the frequent flyer miles."

House wasn't thrilled with that prospect, but at least she wasn't going away. "Okay, I guess."

"Let's just enjoy our first Christmas together, alright?"

"And don't forget the New Year's Eve sex."

"We should probably start practicing now."

"Have I told you lately how much I respect your intelligence?"

"Somehow, I'm guessing you're not really thinking of my intellect right now."

They "practiced" twice that night and looked forward to their time off during the holidays.

* * *

A/N: I'd just like to request that no one flame me because of the content/chronology of the House/Cuddy relationship as summarized by House in this chapter. I happen to think the show is unclear on this, plus, I think they tend to change things to either serve the plot points of the current shows/arcs, or because different show writers interpret their relationship differently. Anyway, I hope I was at least consistent with my AU. I also added that House told Cuddy about his delusion when they were waiting for Wilson to take House to Mayfield. As far as I know, that was never stated on the show. But, I think it's at least plausible that it could have been when she found out. He didn't seem to be talking to either Wilson or Cuddy once he went to Mayfield, and I doubt Nolan would have told Cuddy about the content of a delusion without violating patient confidentiality, and I didn't think Cuddy and House talked much after House came back, at least before Lucas did that horrible thing at the medical conference. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, okay?

The two weeks before Christmas passed rather quickly. House had already given Ann her gift, and they were planning for her Valentine's Day present, so he was off the hook to get anything else. He had purchased something for her, anyway, although he supposed it was as much a gift for him as it was for her.

They had decided that he would cook both Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve dinners for them, while she was going to make Christmas day dinner and New Year's brunch.

They planned to be alone for the holidays, because Chase and Danielle would be away, and neither Bob and Deidre or Tom and Sharon wanted to travel when there was a chance of bad weather.

House knew he wouldn't be spending Christmas with Wilson because of Sam. He felt a little badly about that, until he realized that the last few Christmases with Wilson had been memorable, but mostly for the wrong reasons. Wilson had been convalescing the previous Christmas because he'd been an idiot and given an alleged friend of his a piece of his liver.

So, House had spent the time at PPTH, sitting at Wilson's bedside. He hadn't minded doing it at the time, but the way Wilson had treated him after Sam entered the picture had made him regret the worsening leg pain he'd felt sleeping in the chair by Wilson's bed, not to mention how bored he was sitting there while Wilson slept.

The Christmas before that had been spent trying not to think about Cuddy and what was going to happen now that she had Rachel. House really should have given up on things with her then. It would have saved a tremendous amount of trouble and pain. He and Wilson had tried to spend some time together, but it was strained because what had happened with Amber was still lingering between them.

House hadn't totally hated the year before that. Being with The Donkey Show Hooker had been sort of fun, he guessed, other than the emptiness he felt after she left.

The year before was House falling apart from withdrawal and Tritter's harassment, and Wilson abandoning him in a pool of vomit. Certainly not House's proudest moment, and, he was beginning to see, hardly Wilson's, either.

So, it had been at least five or six Christmases since they had really had any fun with each other. It had taken House long enough to realize that Christmas with Wilson wasn't really worth it. He had begun to think that was true of other things involving Wilson, too. But he set those thoughts aside to try to enjoy his time with Ann.

Christmas was on a Saturday, and they had both finished work the Wednesday prior. They were off until Monday, the third. Ann hoped House wouldn't be bored with her, and House hoped Ann wouldn't get pissed off at him. They both also wanted to enjoy themselves.

They had finished their gift shopping. Other than quick trips to the supermarket to get items here and there, they were staying at home and having a lot of sex – three times a day. So, things were actually going well until Christmas Eve.

House was preparing dinner and Ann was talking to him in the kitchen when Ann's cell phone rang.

Without looking at the caller ID, she picked up the phone. "Hello," Ann said. "Oh, hi . . . Fine, how are you?"

Ann put the phone down on the counter after she had put it on speaker and picked up a magazine. She glanced through it while she was talking.

House didn't know who it was, so he listened to Ann's voice for clues. It was weird because she sounded completely flat.

The voice on the phone declared, "I'm doing well."

Ann replied, "Well, that's good."

"Joe and Kathy are well, too," the female voice informed them.

"That's nice, "Ann intoned blandly.

"What are you doing with yourself these days?"

"Just working, mostly."

"Kathy's sister is here with her husband."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you doing anything special for the holidays?"

"Nothing much."

"What's that noise I hear in the background?"

"Um, cooking."

"It seems a shame that you're alone. It's too bad Tom and Sharon didn't invite you."

"They're concerned about me and didn't want me to be driving in bad weather."

"Oh. That's right; I forget it can get pretty snowy up there. How is the weather?"

"It doesn't get really cold in New Jersey until January. Not as cold as it used to get in Schenectady, certainly."

"It must be quite a shock from California, though."

"I don't really mind it."

"Would you like to talk to your brother?"

"If he wants to, okay."

There was a pause as the phone was being passed to someone else. Ann continued to leaf through her magazine, and didn't even look up at House. There was something really strange going on, he thought. He was hearing something he never heard before – her voice lacking any emotion. Even when she was in that ice cold rage about what Cuddy and Lucas had done to him, she wasn't shut down like this. It scared him a little. He tried to get her attention but she kept her nose buried in the magazine.

"Hey, Ann, Merry Christmas," a male voice stated.

"Same to you, Joe," Ann replied.

"Mom says it's cold up there."

"It's not too bad."

"You should have come down here, at least for as long as you had time off."

"I'm going back to work after New Year's."

"How's business?"

"Fine."

"Doing anything exciting?"

"Not really."

"Well, I guess time away from work is good enough, even with nothing to do."

"I guess it is."

"Well, I gotta go. Kathy and her sister have the meal ready."

"Sounds good."

"Take care of yourself."

"You, too."

"Say hi to everybody up there."

"Same to you."

"Happy holidays."

"Happy holidays."

Ann reached for her phone and turned it off. She put it in her pocket. She was staring off into space.

"Dinner's ready," House informed her, snapping her out of her reverie. "Do you want to eat here or in the dining room?"

"Here is fine, if that's okay with you," she said quietly.

"Sure," House agreed. He put some food on her plate and handed it to her, along with a napkin and some flatware. She went to the kitchen table and sat down. The table was long and fairly narrow. House usually sat at the head of the table, and Ann sat to his left, just so they could sit close together. However, this time she sat at the other end.

House knew from personal experience that sometimes people needed their space. So, he sat down at his usual place. It felt like she was miles away, and, in a way, maybe she was.

They ate in silence, as they had done on occasion, but it was never this uncomfortable before. They finished and she got up to take her plate to the dishwasher. She began to clean up and put things away. House brought his plate and she put it in the dishwasher for him.

"I'm going to the living room to watch TV," House informed her. "The 'A Christmas Story' marathon is on. Care to join me?"

"I think I'll just go to bed . . . " Ann replied.

House raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

". . . To go to sleep," she finished her sentence.

"At seven?" House asked incredulously.

"I'm tired."

"You know Santa won't come any earlier just because you try to go to sleep now."

"I know . . . "

"Annie, what is it?"

"What's what?"

"Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Why? Just because I won't watch some stupid TV show with you or let you screw me?"

"You told me once you didn't care what you did as long as you were with me."

"You know, that's one of your less than endearing qualities."

"What?"

"Your self-centered-ness."

"What?"

"Just because you're the Great Gregory House, Diagnostic Genius, doesn't mean the world revolves around you, you know."

"What did I say that was self-centered?"

"That I should want to be around you all the time."

"No, I said that _you_ said you were happy when you were around me."

"Same thing."

"No it's not and you know it. Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Of course not. You're being arrogant and I just called you on it."

"Annie . . . "

"Whatever."

"Besides, if anyone has the right to be upset, it's me."

"How in the hell do you figure that?"

"I'm standing there while you're talking on the phone and you don't even acknowledge me. They asked you what you're doing for the holidays, and you said, 'Nothing.' "

"Well, it's not exactly like we have ambitious plans. We're just hanging out together."

"Is being with me really 'nothing'?"

Ann saw the hurt in House's eyes and she felt a pang in her chest. "Oh, God, baby, I'm so sorry."

Ann went over to House and slid her arms around him. She hugged him as tightly as she could, and when she was done, she pulled back and covered his face in kisses.

This was the Ann that House knew. It wasn't the pod-Ann she had been replaced with when her family called. "How about going to the living room with me for a little while?"

"Yeah, I will."

They went and sat on the couch. He turned on the TV and tuned to "A Christmas Story."

Of course, with the crisis resolved, House's curiosity intensified. It would have been much wiser for him to hold back and not to push things, but when, since the age of five, had he ever held back and done the wise thing?

"Can I ask you something?" he questioned quietly.

Ann sighed. "I guess."

"Do they know about me, I mean, about us?"

"Nope. Does _your_ mom know about us?"

"I'm going to tell her tonight when she calls. I figure she might want to know before any potential grandchildren graduate from college. Don't you think your mom would want to know, too?"

"I guess I just don't see her as a part of my life. I don't think she has the need to know."

"You don't think they need to know about me? Why? Are you ashamed of me or something?"

"No, of course not! If I were, there is no way I would I have spent six hours at the hospital Christmas party practically having sex with you in front of everyone."

"That was the people I work with, not your family. I still don't know your family."

"What the hell are you talking about? You met Bob less than a week after we started dating. And Tom the week after that, and Danielle within the month. And you met Deidre and Sharon less than six months after we met. Geez, they've all stayed at our house with us!"

"But, that's not your mom and your brother . . . "

"No, but they're my family! I already told you Bobby went with me to every hearing and trial proceeding against my attackers, and Tomaso saved me from falling into the abyss of addiction again by coming out to California and dragging me to a therapist for my PTSD. And Dani, Shari, and Dee took care of me when I came home from the hospital."

House noted the use of diminutives and nicknames. He already knew she felt deep affection for these people. He probably didn't know just how much.

She continued without his prompting. "And do you know what I mean by 'they took care of me when I got home'? You know I was raped in the ass. Well, not only was I torn up from that, but the bastards decided to cut me there, too. I was such a mess they needed to do a temporary colostomy until I healed."

Ann stood up and peeled down her pants on the left side. "You've seen this scar, haven't you? You're a doctor. You know this is from a stoma, don't you?"

House had noticed a scar on her lower abdomen, but it was under some extra flesh, so, in case she was self-conscious about a little extra weight, he hadn't wanted to draw attention to the area by examining it. That meant he had never looked at it closely enough to know what it was. Now that he really saw it, the configuration was familiar. Shit.

"So, taking care of me wasn't just holding my hand and reading to me by my bedside. They fed me when the last thing I wanted was to eat anything. They gave me baths and washed my hair when I stank. And they emptied that bag for me I don't know how times a day! There's no biological connection, but these people love me. They're the only family I want or need. And they know all about you. And they know I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. More than I ever thought I could . . . "

Ann's voice had gone from angry and insistent to soft, and starting to break. House hadn't thought about who she considered her family. He, of all people, should understand that sometimes, for better or worse, it wasn't about biology.

"And I'm sorry for not telling you everything that happened," Ann said quietly. "It was just so painful and humiliating . . . "

"I haven't told you much about my infarction, either, but I don't want to right now, okay?"

"Yeah, enough ugly stuff for Christmas Eve. But I do want you to tell me soon. Right now, let's watch the movie."

They settled in on the couch, with their arms around each other and Ann's head resting on House's shoulder. Eventually, they found themselves laughing over Ralphie's single-minded quest for a Red Rider B-B gun.

House's cell rang at about ten. He set it down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Gregory. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good, Mom. Listen, I just want to let you know that I have the phone on speaker."

"Is that so James can hear?"

"He's not here right now, Mom."

"Does that mean you're alone, dear? That's too bad."

"I'm not alone, Mom."

"Who's there then?"

"Um, this is my, um, Ann's here with me."

Ann couldn't help but smile at House's awkwardness. He was a brilliant, world-famous physician, but there were times when he behaved just like a self-conscious teenager. It was totally adorable.

"Hello, Mrs. House," Ann jumped in.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone as Blythe attempted to process what she was hearing.

"Are you his girlfriend?" Blythe asked hesitantly.

"Since we're not in seventh grade, that would be a 'no,' Mom," House snarked.

"Don't be a smart aleck, Gregory," Blythe admonished. "So, Ann, is it? You're Gregory's, oh, what do they call it these days? Significant other?"

"Yes, I am, Mrs. House," Ann replied.

"Call me Blythe, please," House's mother said. "How did you meet Gregory, then? How long have you been seeing each other? Do you have any plans for the future?"

"Mom," House jumped in, "It's Christmas Eve and we're not going to give you a minute-by-minute history of our relationship and what we're planning to do for the next twenty years."

"Well, if you talked to me more than once every six months, I might not have to ask all these questions," Blythe informed him. "And I'm not going to apologize for wanting to know something about an important person in my son's life."

"Blythe," Ann said, "Greg and I met at the hospital last summer."

"Are you a doctor?" Blythe inquired.

"No," Ann answered. "I'm a consultant. I'm computerizing the patient files for Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. In fact, I'm almost finished."

"Oh. Are you leaving then?"

"I might have been, if I hadn't met your son."

House couldn't help the faint smile that ghosted his lips. "Mom, it's getting late, and we really have to get to bed soon. How are you, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Blythe informed him. "I get a little more tired than I used to, but I'm older than I used to be, too."

"What does that quack say?"

"Doctor Sampson is not a 'quack,' Gregory," Blythe insisted. "I haven't been to him in a while, anyway."

"How long?"

"My annual physical is in January, so it's been almost a year."

"You shouldn't wait, Mom. You should go to the doctor as soon as you don't feel well."

"Who said I didn't feel well? I'm fine, Gregory. And I promise I'll talk to him about the fatigue when I go to see him next month."

"Don't let him give you some bullshit about it being age-related."

"Watch your language, Gregory!"

"Sorry, Mom. Have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, son. And Merry Christmas to you too, Ann."

"Thank you, Mrs., er, Blythe. Happy Holidays."

"Goodbye, dear."

With that, Blythe hung up.

"Well, that went reasonably well," Ann noted.

"Are you kidding?" House responded. "She's not going to rest until she knows everything about you . . . oh, shit."

"Afraid of what she'll find out?" Ann joked.

"What? No, of course not."

"Then why do you seem so perturbed?"

"She's going to call Wilson to get the scoop, especially since she knows he's Jewish and she won't be disturbing him on Christmas."

"What do you think Wilson will say?"

"If she's able to reach him, he'll probably just deflect, which she'll think is a little odd, but it won't be a big deal. What I'm worried about is if she gets Sam, instead."

"Yeah, that could be a problem. Well, we can always straighten her out later, can't we?"

"I guess. Besides, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"We can keep each other warm with some Christmas Eve sex."

"Brilliant idea! Have I mentioned that of all the qualities you have that I admire, your intelligence is one of my favorites?"

"It thought it was the fact that I have a high sex drive and I can't keep my hands off you."

"That's in my top five, too."

"Shall we go to the bedroom and discuss rankings?"

Ann stood up and offered her hand to House. He took it and followed her into the bedroom. Ann used the bathroom first. After House was done, he found Ann in bed with the covers up to her chin. After he stripped and climbed in, he found that she was naked under the covers, too.

He began to caress her, running his hands across her face, neck, and back. He lightly stroked her boobs and bent down to lick them softly. He kissed her in the valley of her breasts and moved slowly downward. Just when Ann thought he would dive down to her hair, he veered off to the left side. He began kissing her lower abdomen.

It took Ann a moment to realize he was kissing the scar where the stoma had been. She made a noise in disgust and pushed his head away.

"Ouch," House exclaimed, although Ann suspected she hadn't really hurt him. "Why did you do that?"

"You know what came out of the site where that scar is now, don't you?"

"Yes. And let me point out that I'm a doctor who specializes in infectious diseases, so it's pretty tough to gross me out."

"Really?"

"Did you happen to glance at what I was reading when you sat down at my table the first time we met?"

"No . . . you mean it wasn't 'The Ladies Home Journal'?"

"Hey, they have some good recipes in there, and those exercises to get off that stubborn belly fat from my last pregnancy really worked! But I wasn't reading that, I was reading The Journal of Tropical Infectious Diseases and Parasites."

"Well, that sounds spellbinding. I know what to get Lucas for Christmas now."

"Only if you can't get him his own pet scorpion. My point is that I'm pretty much immune to things making me sick. And a scar from a stoma isn't even close."

"Yeah, but when you think of what came out of there . . . "

"Fecal matter, you mean?"

"Uh, yeah . . . "

'It's not coming out of there now. Besides, it's not like people don't like being, um, stimulated on that part of their body, and they use various methods of stimulation, including, um, parts of their mouths."

"Are you going Victorian on me?"

"What?"

"You're dancing around this. You know I'm hardly a prude."

"Yeah, but you were, um, attacked in that part of your body."

"I appreciate your trying not to upset me. But you can say to me that some people like having their assholes licked."

"Okay. So, then, what's the big deal about my kissing your scar?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"An anus is a part of one's body. A stoma is unnatural. You have no idea how much I felt like a freak when I had the colostomy bag . . . "

"More freakish than a guy with a huge hole in his thigh? A permanent, gaping hole?"

"Well, maybe you do have _some_ idea . . . "

"What difference does it make? I love your body. _All _of your body."

"Then I guess you can go back to showing me."

House smiled slightly and resumed kissing her scar. He then moved on to her curls and ran his fingers through them. His lips traveled over her mound, kissing her.

His tongue found its way to her lips and he ran it along them, causing her to shiver. His tongue went underneath and found her clit. He licked lightly at first, causing more shudders. Then he made direct contact. It was enough to bring Ann over the edge. Her orgasm was intense, spreading heat through her entire body.

He was rock hard. "Are you ready for me now?" He asked Ann.

"Oh, yes, Greg," she answered breathlessly.

He positioned himself so his cock was just outside her opening. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of anticipation. He heard her sigh and he plunged in. It felt fantastic, of course. But it also felt like something else. Like there was nowhere else he should be. Like his body had been waiting for all his adult life to finally be here, inside this woman.

He began to pull out and push in, and Ann met his thrusts. As usual, her body clutched at his. He felt her need for him and it put him over the top. Her climax came almost as he was finished, spreading intense pleasure through him a second time.

They collapsed next to each other. As their senses returned, House decided that during the afterglow was a good time to ask her something. "You know, tonight, um . . . "

"What, baby?" Ann responded contentedly, still riding the endorphin high.

"When your mom and brother called, um . . . " House could feel her body tense up. Damn.

"Greg, you have no idea how sorry I am about that. Talking to them makes me feel empty, like a void. I shouldn't have inflicted that on you."

"You can't help the way you feel."

"Yeah, but I don't have to share."

"Don't worry about it. Now that I know what it is, I can deal with it. As long as I know you're not feeling empty about me."

"Empty? No way! The opposite. You fill both my body and my heart like no one ever has and no one ever will . . . "

House never knew what to say to her when she said things like this. Simply saying he loved her seemed inadequate. Well, there was always the honest approach.

"Listen," House stated. "I'm totally crappy about expressing how I feel. All I know is that I want today with you, tomorrow with you, and every other day I can imagine after that. I lived fifty-one years without you, and, right now, I just can't fathom how I did it. Piss poorly, I guess . . . anyway, I love you and, you know, um, damn . . . "

Ann's smile was a mile wide. "I get it, baby. I love you, too. Let's go to sleep, okay?"

"Yeah."

They held each other as they fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

A/N: I wanted to make Christmas Eve and Christmas Day one chapter, but I thought this was getting a little too long. Anyway, House and Ann's first Christmas, up next.

Oh, and just to let you know, I'm going away mid-week through Sunday, and I may be away from an internet connection, so Christmas may be a while in coming. Thanks for your patience!


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., OCs, you know . . .

House woke up first in the morning. He got up to pee and returned to see if he could get Ann out of bed.

"Time to wake up, Annie with the gorgeous fanny," he told her playfully as he rubbed her butt.

"Flattery and fondling are always good ways to start the day," Ann murmured sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Seven-ish."

"What? Why the hell are you waking me up at seven on a day off?"

"Don't you want to see what Santa brought you?"

"I already got my present."

"Glad you liked the necklace."

"Not that present."

"Well, the music was for your birthday, not Christmas . . . "

"No, not that, either. I'm talking about my hot, six-foot-two-and one-half-inch, muscular, square chinned, blued-eyed present that I've had for about six months. In fact, I think I'm going to enjoy him right now."

"See? Aren't you glad I woke you up?"

"Not as glad as you're going to be."

Ann began by kissing him lightly on the lips. She traveled down to his neck and began to kiss him there.

"You have the most beautiful throat," she murmured as she continued her kisses. House knew that giving access to one's throat was a universal sign of trust and affection because it left one so vulnerable. He put his head back, which pushed his throat up toward her. She responded by placing even more soft kisses all over him there.

After a while, she moved down to his chest. She made sure to lick his nipples thoroughly yet gently. He hissed in response and little Greg perked up.

Ann said nothing, but she smiled as she worked her way down House's flat, muscular abdomen. Her hands moved around his waist, feeling the tiniest bit of softening around the back. She caressed him lightly there. She was making soft noises, indicating the pleasure it was giving her to touch him with her hands and with her mouth.

She kissed and licked the hollows of his hip bones, causing House to moan and thrust his hips forward. She smiled as she passed by little Greg. "I'll be back to you later," she whispered playfully.

She traveled down his legs and House realized she was at his scar. Of course, his inclination was to push her away, until he remembered his insistence the night before that he be able to kiss and lick her scar. It was only fair that he let her try.

Of course, her scar was tiny and it was psychological pain that had made her not want him to touch her there. His scar was much bigger and uglier, like a neon sign vividly displaying his disability. He lay back, anticipating her disgust.

Ann began tentatively at first, not wanting to hurt him. After she realized she wasn't going to cause him pain, she became more sure of herself. She started in the middle and worked her way around, kissing the area softly and caressing it lightly with her fingers.

She made sure she didn't miss a single spot on the entire scar. The ridge at the top was deep and went almost vertically up to the surrounding muscle. She thought as she kissed him that surely the surgeon could have done a better job than this. It probably wouldn't have made his mobility any greater or his pain any less, but at least it wouldn't have looked quite so badly, and maybe that might have helped his self-confidence, even a little.

All Ann knew was that he spent years shutting himself off from humanity. He accepted mere crumbs of affection from people who granted it to him grudgingly, because he believed that that was all he deserved. She hurt inside for all his years of loneliness.

This thinking about his pain made her pause. She unexpectedly found herself rubbing her face gently against the scar and sighing. She also heard another noise. It was ragged breathing. She felt a hand cupping her face. Nothing was said, but she knew he accepted her affection towards this most vulnerable of places, and that it was time to move on.

She kissed her way down his exquisite legs, enjoying their sinewy length. She giggled when she reached his feet.

"What's so funny?" he asked, perplexed.

"Not so much funny, as . . . yummy."

Ann grabbed him by the ankle. She began licking up the sole of his foot, covering every inch of it with her flattened tongue as she made her way up from his heel. House was squirming and grunting. It was intensely stimulating, and his cock was responding accordingly.

When she got to his toes, she eased them apart and began to lick in-between. House was almost writhing at this point. She took each toe in her mouth and circled it with her tongue. She then began to suck each one. By the time she was finished with the little toe on the second foot, House was straining. "God . . . Annie . . . Fuck . . . " were the only words he was able to utter.

She kissed, licked and nipped her way up the inside of his calves and thighs to his manhood. She started on his perineum, licking tenderly. House was moaning quietly at this point, unable to form coherent words.

When she began to lick his balls, he was sure he was going to explode, and only kept the tiniest bit of control by panting heavily. When her tongue began sliding up the base of his cock to the tip, he was almost beyond his ability to contain himself at all. She took him into her throat, sliding back his foreskin each time she went down on him. It only took a few times before he came with a force so intense he shook from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head.

It was a good ten minutes before his senses began to return even a little. He laid there, eyes closed, floating, his feelings nothing short of rapture.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Ann whispered, bringing him back to some form of awareness. He opened his eyes and looked at her, finally remembering what she had done.

"Are you okay?" he croaked.

"I'm fantastic," she replied softly.

"What about, you know . . . ?" he asked, suddenly remembering the last time she did this for him and the disaster that followed.

"Everything's fine. It's right here," she said, indicating her breasts. They were covered with House's cum.

"Beautiful," House whispered. He leaned over and pulled her into a passionate kiss. It felt soggy against his chest, but he didn't care. Ann smelled musky and salty – his scent - mixed with another. And it wasn't cologne or her body wash - it was an aroma that was distinctly hers. And the combination was the best thing that had ever made contact with House's nose.

"Can we rest a little bit?" Ann asked sleepily.

"Sure," House answered. He had no inclination to do anything except lie in this bed with this woman. At some point later, he'd need to get up for another bathroom break or to eat or to take some pain meds, but, right now, everything was set aside just to enjoy being with her.

They cuddled together and dozed until about ten.

Again, House was the first one to wake up. His leg was starting to bother him. He wasn't sure about taking pain meds on an empty stomach, but he didn't want to disturb Ann. Luckily for him, she woke up.

"I assume you want to get up now," Ann stated.

"You already got me up this morning," House noted, "And I'm not sure I'm ready for more just yet. I'd love some breakfast, though."

"Just let me pee and I'll go and see what I have in the kitchen."

"Like you don't know exactly what you have out there."

"What?"

"You're the woman who plans more than Eisenhower did when he invaded Normandy."

"True. Do you wish I were more spontaneous?"

"Sometimes, I do. But I understand that being attacked would tend to make you want to exercise control over as many things as you could, so I get why you need to do this."

"You're sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Spontaneity is highly overrated. It's also the refuge of the disorganized and the lazy. Besides, if your planning means I always have a fully belly, a comfortable place to stay, and as much sex as I want, I'm all for it."

"Thanks, I think. See you in the kitchen."

Ann got up and went to the bathroom. House heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink. She went by the bed and headed out of the room towards the kitchen. House observed that she didn't bother to put on any clothes. Apparently, she hadn't washed off his stuff and was going to spend some time walking around with it on. God, how hot was that?

He got up and went to pee again. He grabbed his cane and limped toward the kitchen. He both smelled and heard the bacon frying.

"Be careful," he cautioned her as he entered the kitchen. "Don't want any grease burns on my playtoys."

"Playtoys?" Ann asked. "And all this time I thought they were called tits."

" 'Tits' is the generic name. My name for them is playtoys because they're one of my favorite things to have fun with."

"I'm not so sure I like that name. It makes me sound as though I have two beach balls attached to my chest."

"What name would you like instead? Not that I'm saying I'll use it . . . "

"Well, they're girls, so how about some girls' names?"

"Once I told Cuddy I called her boobs Patty and Selma because they were always smokin'." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, House regretted it. Why did he always screw up like this? No wonder he'd never had a relationship that lasted. He waited for Ann's anger to erupt.

"Okay, so we'll go with something else," Ann responded in a pensive voice. "How about Edwina and Agatha? No, not sexy enough. What about Roxanne and Randi? Nope, too much like hooker names . . . Gee, this is tougher than I thought . . . "

"Just forget it."

"What?"

"I'm sorry for ruining it."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"I was trying to do something not awful with you, and look what happened."

"I know you've been through some pretty crappy things in your life, so you can't actually think this is awful, can you?"

"I just wanted a good day with you."

"As someone reminded me last night, I think every day with you is a good day."

"Even when I say stupid shit like I just did?"

"I think the definition of being human is to say at least a little stupid shit every day."

"Maybe for other people."

"But you're better than that."

"Hell no, I'm worse . . . "

"Why do you do this? Why do you beat yourself up like this? What's so terrible about being human?"

House couldn't answer her. He looked down.

"Is it because your father punished you so much for making mistakes? You know that even if you became perfect tomorrow, he still wouldn't approve, and not just because he's dead. He would have never approved. Just let it go."

"Is that what you've done with your mom?"

"At least I try."

"Well, not all of us are as emotionally mature as you are."

"I'm not emotionally mature. You already know my issues. I think if I plan for every contingency, somehow I'll avoid disaster. If I make sure I have enough meat in the freezer, I won't get raped again . . . "

"Hey, a frozen leg of lamb makes a pretty good weapon."

Ann smiled ruefully. "And parents can make us feel badly from beyond the grave or even from South Carolina."

"Especially if they're 'hiking on the Appalachian Trail' "

"I just had an image of my mother with an Argentinean gigolo. Wow, there's something I don't need to think about."

"Bad joke."

Ann had finished cooking the bacon and eggs, and was putting some bagels in the toaster. House grabbed plates from the cupboard and flatware from the drawer and set the table. He went to the refrigerator to get the fruit salad.

They put the food on the kitchen table and sat down, this time in their usual places.

"You know, your ta-tas don't look half-bad with my junk all over them," House remarked with a mouthful of eggs.

"Thanks," Ann responded.

"Can I ask you something? Why don't you wash it off?"

"I will, eventually."

"No, I mean right away."

"I don't know. It takes some effort to get it there. I kinda like to enjoy it awhile before I send it down the drain. Besides, it must be good for my skin."

"Must be?"

"It's natural . . . "

"So is poop and vomit, but I don't think you'd want them on your skin for any length of time."

"You know how you told me it's practically impossible to gross you out?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's not true for me."

"Sorry."

"No problem."

They finished their meal and cleaned up.

"Hey, it's Christmas. Are you anxious to see what Santa brought you?" House inquired.

"Not really," Ann replied.

"Why not?"

"I already have my heart's desire right here next to me. What else do I need?"

"Damn."

"What?"

"Now I can't say I wanna see my presents without sounding like a materialistic, self-centered idiot."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. There are way worse things than being someone's heart's desire. And when the love of your life says that, it's not bad. I mean, it's great. Shit."

"God, will you just relax? Why are you so worried about everything you say?"

"Because I've always managed to get myself in trouble by saying the wrong thing. When I was a kid, I pissed off my dad and the other kids. They beat me for it. And all during school and my career I've pissed off pretty much everyone – my teachers and professors, my peers, my bosses and my employees. Most of the time, I don't care. With you . . . I just don't want to screw things up."

"You won't. I know you're not the average person. You're a genius. And genius isn't easy. I guess a lot of people don't get that. Anyway, who wants easy? Kevin was easy, and he almost bored me to death."

"You know, you never told me his name until now."

"Didn't think you'd care. I know I didn't."

"Ouch! That's a little cold, don't you think?"

"It's true."

"Kind of like the way you get cold when you talk to your mom and brother . . . "

"Your point being?"

"Nothing. It's just an interesting way of coping with less-than-positive emotions."

"It's something we have in common."

"Yes. But not with each other."

Ann got closer and placed a series of tender kisses on House's face.

"Never with each other," she declared softly as she rubbed her right cheek against his left cheek, then his chin, then his right cheek, then his forehead. They both sighed contentedly.

"Let's go see what Santa left for you under the tree," Ann said.

"Presents, finally. Woo-hoo!" House responded.

Ann had wanted a Christmas tree, and House convinced her to buy an artificial one. He told her that his family had had real trees when he was growing up because they wouldn't have to be moved to the next base, and like most other things concerning his childhood, there weren't many happy memories associated with Christmas, so he preferred a fake tree. He also told Ann it was more economical in the long run, so it was the most practical thing to do.

In actuality, the main reason House wanted her to buy it was because it came with the lights already on it, which made one less thing for Ann to obsess over. He would never have admitted he was being thoughtful, and, even though Ann suspected he was, she kept it to herself to spare his dignity.

House saw Ann veer off to the bedroom as he headed to the living room, but he didn't know why. The mystery was solved when he saw her return wearing the emerald necklace.

"Hey, are you sure you want to get my jism all over that?" House asked as he gestured toward the jewelry.

"It's dry now, so it shouldn't come off," Ann responded. "Besides, fine jewelry can always be cleaned."

"Well, the way it's perched between your cum-covered breasts certainly looks beautiful."

"Thanks."

House realized a couple of things. One, he was about to open Christmas presents in the nude. A first for him, and he was guessing, a first for Ann as well. Two, he had become so comfortable around her that he had almost forgotten his clothing-diminished state. Hey, even if the presents sucked, it was already good.

He was also quite moved that she remembered the necklace and decided to wear it. Even if it wasn't her best gift ever, this told him it ranked up near the top, which pleased him. Of course, he would never say anything like that out loud.

"Here's a present for you," Ann said, handing him a rectangular package with an envelope attached. "Open the gift first."

House tore away the paper to find a box containing an I-phone.

"Whoa!" was all House was able to say.

"I don't know if you want one or not. But now you have a i-pod classic for music, a cell phone and a PSP. I thought you could combine them all into one device. There are other advantages like it's less obvious that you're playing games, which may keep Doctor Cuddy off your case a little. And the apps are cheaper to download than buying game cartridges."

"There's some stuff on here already . . . "

"I downloaded some Rolling Stones, B. B. King, Miles Davis and a little Bach. The paper toss game is one of my favorites. It's one of the best time wasters you'll ever encounter. Oh, and here's something you're going to love to use with your team."

Ann took the i-phone and dragged her finger across the screen. She opened an app and moved her finger down to scroll, highlighting something. She pressed and a loud claxon sounded.

"Perfect for bad guesses and missed diagnoses," House said with a small smile.

"Don't forget the envelope," Ann reminded him.

House opened it. "An i-tunes gift card for five hundred dollars . . . "

"Most of the apps are either ninety-nine cents or a dollar ninety-nine. As you know, individual songs are ninety-nine cents, too, and a whole album is in the ten- to thirteen-dollar range, so that should last you for a while."

"This is fantastic, thank you."

House leaned over and gave Ann a serious kiss with lots of tongue.

"Keep that up and we'll never get to the rest of the presents," Ann quipped.

"This is for you," House said, handing Ann an envelope.

She opened it and read the contents. "It's a gift certificate for twelve manicures and pedicures at the salon. You know how much I love these, and they're such an extravagance. Thank you so much, baby."

Ann leaned over and gave him a kiss similar to the one he had given her. House was glad she was pleased with the gift, but he decided it was time to confess.

"I lied," he told her.

"About what?" she questioned with a puzzled expression.

"This isn't a gift for you, it's a gift for me."

"You mean you're going to pose as me and use this for your own pedicures? I think you'll have a tough time making them believe you're Ann, with that beard and Adam's apple, especially . . . "

"No. I mean . . . I just love the way your hands and feet look when you have them done."

"Well, thank you for . . . noticing."

"I didn't mean it in some tranny-I'm-so-envious-way. I meant that I love the way your hands look when they touch me, and how suck-able your toes are . . . God, this is embarrassing."

"If it makes your feel any better, it's doing wonders for my ego, not to mention my libido."

"Well, then I guess it's worth a little embarrassment."

"Here's your next present."

Ann handed House a letter-sized envelope. House opened it and saw a paper with some printing and graphics on it, obviously generated on a PC or laptop with a color printer.

" 'This entitles bearer, Gregory House, MD,' " House read, " 'To massages. Quantity, duration and location to be determined by bearer.' So, I get to pick how many, for how long, and where on my body?"

"And, where you want it to happen, too."

"Even in my office at work?"

"With the blinds up, if you're in an exhibitionist mood."

"Cool. Can I have one today?"

"Any time, any where."

"Then let's get through this gift thing fast. Here's your last present."

House handed Ann a letter-sized envelope of her own.

She opened it and the paper folded inside. She read, "Good for foot, ankle and lower back massages for as long as needed."

"Just my ankles, feet and lower back?" she asked, "I don't mean to be ungrateful, but why only there?"

"Added weight plus the slowed movement of body fluid can cause pain and swelling in the feet and ankles. And carrying the extra weight in one spot in the abdomen tends to create lower back pain."

Ann pondered that for a second. House watched as the light dawned and Ann began to smile. "And by 'as long as needed' you mean no longer than nine months?"

"It may not be necessary in the first trimester, but I'm willing to perform the procedure if you request it then," House answered in his best clinician's voice.

"Let's see. I'm going to have raging pregnancy hormones and your long, beautiful fingers massaging me? You better get a script for Viagra, 'cause I'm going to be wearing you out, baby."

"It just might kill me, but what a way to go."

Ann leaned over and kissed House on one of his favorite spots, on the side of his neck, just below his ear. She whispered, "Thank you – for all of it."

Ann pulled away and got up again. "Here's your last present," Ann said, handing it to him, "But I need to explain something before you open it."

"Okay," House responded, wondering what could possibly be so difficult that he couldn't figure it out.

"This present is something . . . well, you might not want it. You have to decide for yourself if you do. And I won't be offended if you decide not to accept it, although I think it would help you if you did."

House was well beyond curious at this point and tore open yet another envelope. It contained a print out from the electronic calendar he had at the hospital. It showed an appointment with a Doctor Sanjay Shankar on January 16 at three in the afternoon. The phone number was in area code 212, so House knew it was Manhattan. House confirmed this when he saw the Park Avenue address.

House looked at Ann with questioning eyes.

"He's a pain management specialist," she explained. "In fact, he has almost the same reputation in his field as you do in yours. He said he would be quite excited to meet you."

House was silent and Ann felt compelled to fill the space with talking, so she continued on. "I told him you might be reluctant to see him, so he knows that you may cancel. The office policy is that you have to give forty-eight hours notice or they charge for the appointment, so please keep that in mind if you decide not to go."

House was still silent.

"Um, you also told me you had an appointment with Doctor Nolan the first week of January. I know you've been, um, reluctant to consider this before, but maybe you could talk to him about it and figure out why . . . "

Ann saw that House had resisted using anything but Ibuprofen for his leg, even though it barely touched the pain. Ann also knew about the random drug testing House was required to undergo. What she didn't know was that the terms of his return to work last year after Mayfield required that he be free of opiates and all other drugs that had any potential to alter his mood. Of course, those were the only drugs that had a chance of relieving his pain, so it was pointless to see this guy. He'd lose his job if he took anything this doctor recommended.

House looked at Ann. She looked so hopeful, and, yes, almost fragile. He was most emphatically not going to shoot her down on this. At least not today. It would be too much like those Christmases when House was young and made a present for John that John laughed at. There was no way he was going to make Ann feel shitty like that if he could help it.

"I'll think about it, okay?" House finally spoke.

"Oh, thank you, baby!" Ann exclaimed and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you for . . . trying to help me," House couldn't believe that actually came out of his mouth, but there it was. He slid his arms around her waist and held her.

"I love you and I just want you to hurt less, that's all."

"I love you, too." House was barely able to get out the words. He was deeply moved by her caring and concern. Unlike most people he had encountered before her, he knew she didn't have some hidden agenda, like trying to get more work out of him, trying to fix him or otherwise manipulating him. Yes, she'd made the appointment for him, but she'd also made it perfectly clear that she considered it entirely his choice whether to go or not.

Unfortunately, even if he went, he knew it was a bad idea for him to hope for any improvement with his pain, but at least he could go through the motions for her. Hey, if he didn't have a patient that day, it might even get him out of some clinic duty for a few hours.

"How about that massage now?" House asked. Ann took him by the hand and they went to the bedroom. She made House a very happy man, and then he made Ann a very satisfied woman.

A/N: And so you have House and Ann's first Christmas. I hope it was worth the wait. Oh, and I'd like to know – in that first paragraph of the previous chapter, when I mentioned House got Ann a Christmas gift that was as much for himself as it was for her, didn't you think I was referring to lingerie? Fess up, people! ;D

For my readers from other countries and my U.S. readers who don't follow politics, the references to South Carolina, "hiking the Appalachian Trail" and the Argentinean gigolo refers to Mark Sanford. He is the governor of South Carolina who disappeared for a week in the summer of 2009 while he was taking a vacation with a woman from Argentina with whom he was having an extramarital affair. When he got back to the state capital, he tried to convince the press that he couldn't be reached because he was hiking the Appalachian Trail (which is a trail that goes through several states in the Eastern U.S., along the ridge of the Appalachian Mountains). Honestly, I'm not making that up. Sometimes, I wonder I why bother to write fiction . . .


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, blah, blah

House and Ann enjoyed the rest of Christmas Day, including Ann's delicious dinner. The week passed quickly. They were still having sex three times a day, and having some interesting discussions. House was, of course, using the internet to find out everything he could about Doctor Shankar and pain management.

The information about Shankar was positive. He was a published author, with several pain management studies to his credit. House read most of them and was impressed with the science they contained. There were no studies supporting "alternative" medical practices. If anything, Shankar's few studies of them de-bunked myths about their effectiveness.

Shankar had done a couple of studies on biofeedback that seemed to support its use. However, he was careful to note that biofeedback was only effective in cases of mild to moderate pain, and in conjunction with medication for severe pain.

From what he had read, House thought Shankar was at least a competent doctor. And the judgment that a fellow physician was competent was pretty much the best assessment any other doctor could hope to get from Gregory House.

What House found out about pain management wasn't as encouraging. As he had already suspected from previous research, other than quackery like acupuncture and chiropractic, effective pain management involved the use of drugs. And not the analgesics he'd been relying on that hadn't been working so well. The more he researched, the more he became convinced that he could either keep his job or reduce his pain. He couldn't do both.

Maybe Shankar knew of some studies that hadn't been published yet for some experimental drugs. House briefly flirted with the idea of getting himself into a drug trial. The problem was that he could be subjecting himself to some nasty side effects, including permanent damage or death.

If this was five years ago, or even last spring, House wouldn't have cared about anything happening to him. But, he had Ann now, and he wanted to make sure he was with her as long as he could be, and in as reasonably good shape as possible.

He also knew that if anything happened to him because of something Ann had suggested he do, she would probably drown in her own guilt. He had more than enough experience with the corrosive effect of guilt on Stacy and on their relationship, and he sure as hell didn't want a repeat of that.

In any case, he was going to be trying to get Ann pregnant. There was no way he was going to tempt fate by taking some new drug that could affect the quality of his sperm. Heck, it was probably in bad enough shape as it was. Not a good idea to risk making things worse.

By the end of the week, he was very discouraged, but he didn't want Ann to know that. He hated being dishonest with her, but he felt he had no choice. Especially if he didn't want to ruin New Year's Eve or New Year's Day.

So, he shoved that part of himself aside. He'd certainly lived enough years in denial of his feelings that he had the skills to do it. He'd just get through to the sixteenth, have the appointment, and get on with his life when he got the disappointing news. He'd always known that learning to live without hope would come in handy one day.

It was New Year's Eve, and House was in the kitchen preparing dinner. He went in the refrigerator to get something, and he noticed a lot of food in there. "I knew you went to the market today. I didn't know how much stuff you bought."

"We're supposed to get snow starting between three a.m. and dawn on New Year's Day, going through until mid-morning on the second," Ann informed him. "You know me and Eisenhower, just planning."

"Through part of the day on Sunday, huh? Since Chase and Danielle are away, I wonder if he'll use the weather as an excuse to be late or not show up on Monday."

"Your concern for our friends is touching. But, you don't have to worry. Danielle e-mailed me that they got home late last night."

"And you didn't invite them over for New Year's Eve?"

"Did you want me to?"

"Hell, no. But that's never stopped you before."

"Good point. But I thought it would be great to have sex when the ball dropped, and I figured it would be better in front of the TV in the living room, with the Christmas tree and everything. So I didn't think it was wise to invite company."

"I'll never make a comment about your level of preparation again, Annie."

"I'm sure they have their own plans, anyway."

"Is that a euphemism for he's going to be banging her brains out all night long?"

"Pretty much."

House had decided to go all out for dinner, and made Lobster Newburg with rice and filet mignon. He also had asparagus with almonds, just to remind Ann of her birthday dinner (among other things), and some Decadent Chocolate Cake he had purchased for dessert.

"It takes a lot of balls to call a cake 'Decadent,' " House observed as he chewed. "What if the people who consume it don't think so?"

"In this case, I'd say it qualifies," Ann stated. "If this had any more chocolate, I'd get a high from the cocoa. This is excellent."

"Speaking of cocoa, do you know why Coca-Cola is called Coke?"

"Because when they first manufactured it, it had cocaine in it. After the authorities decided it was giving people a little too much of a 'lift,' the manufacturer took the cocaine out, and replaced it with caffeine, which is why 'regular' coke has caffeine in it now."

"Well, so much for impressing you with that bit of trivia."

"Trivia I know. It's the important stuff where I sometimes have the gaps."

"You do pretty well."

"What do you see in me?"

"What?"

"I mean, why are you with me? You're a genius. I'm just a person of average intellect."

"You're not a person with an average intellect. You're very intelligent."

"I'm not a genius like you . . . "

"And in my personal life, that's served me so fucking well, hasn't it?"

"Don't I bore you to death?"

"Do I look bored to you?"

"Well, you could be hiding it to make me feel better."

"Yeah, 'cause it's so like me to spare someone's feelings. What's going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've never expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with your brainpower, so why are you worried about it all of a sudden?"

"I got a Christmas card from Kevin yesterday."

"On December 30? Wow, he's really on top of things . . . "

"Well, it was delayed because it was sent to my old address in California and it had to be forwarded. I guess his office doesn't have my new address in New Jersey."

"His office?"

"Yeah. When we were married, he did my taxes. My name is still on the client list, apparently."

"So, what did this card say, if I may ask? Was it something intimate like, 'Thank you for your business in 2010'?"

"Exactly that, as a matter of fact."

"Geez, and here I thought I was The Anti-Romantic. I'm John Keats compared to this guy."

"I'll go along with that, if you promise not to die of consumption."

"So, explain to me how this got you believing . . . whatever it is that I don't agree with?"

"Kevin is a good accountant. Maybe even a very good one. But one of the more important reasons we split up was because I felt no challenge from him. He didn't have what you would call a wide-ranging intellect, or even much intellectual curiosity. If it wasn't about his job or sports, it just didn't interest him."

"Again, I ask, what does this have to do with you and me?"

"Well, as much as I considered Kevin not to be interesting because he didn't challenge me intellectually, I'm thinking that because you're a genius you probably find me pretty dull at times."

"Have I ever said that?"

"No."

"We've been together for these last two weeks without any distractions . . . "

"Other than sex . . . "

"Okay, other than sex. You've managed with no problem to keep me interested, and I've managed to avoid pissing you off so severely that you felt the need to cut my throat. All in all, I'd say this was a valid test."

"Test of what?"

"Of our relationship. Of our ability to live together reasonably well."

House hadn't meant to bring up the idea of their living together until after they went back to work. But, he figured they'd have enough to deal with in January, between his appointments with Nolan and Shankar and her finishing up at the hospital and trying to find a new contract to work on. Anyway, it was out there now, at least.

"Are you saying you want us to move in together?" Ann asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," House replied. "I am. What do you think?"

"I was wondering about our having a baby together if we weren't going to live with each other to raise it . . . "

"And if there's no baby?"

"I still want to live with you."

Well, there it was. And, in order to avoid being like the unromantic Kevin, House gave Ann a passionate kiss. Oh, and it was also because he was feeling, well, maybe not happy, but certainly, quite good about how she took the whole thing.

"Speaking of logistics, I'm going to need to move the rest of my stuff in here at some point."

"You're going to move here?"

"Well, it's not like we can fit all your stuff in my apartment. And it's only one bedroom, which would mean no one staying over. For one thing, I just couldn't stomach Chase and Danielle spending the night and doing it all over my living room floor."

"Well, it doesn't have to be here. We could find another place."

"At some point, if you want to. But this place is all on one floor, and it has sufficient space for your friends, um, family, to visit, even if we were to use one of the bedrooms for a baby."

"Yeah, that would work."

"There's an issue with my piano. I think if we put it in the room with the other instruments, we wouldn't be able to use the fold-out couch if we needed to. Would you mind having it in the living room?"

"The room is large enough that the piano wouldn't overwhelm it. And as any decorator will tell you, there's no more beautiful piece of furniture in a room than a piano. What about your books? Do we have enough space for them?"

"Alot of them are here already, on the shelves in the hallway."

"Those shelves are pretty full. And I have a few boxes I've never unpacked. Maybe we could put some additional shelves in the master bedroom."

The conversation about House moving in continued. He was amazed that Ann had somehow sensed he was not telling her the truth about something. She thought it had to do with some imagined difference in their intellects instead of the real reason, that he couldn't bring himself to tell her the pain management appointment was useless. At least this was a sufficient distraction for the moment. House breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Midnight did involve plenty of fireworks, and not just the ones going off in Times Square. House continued to be astonished how much he could have this woman and still want her. Of course, it had become a lot more than the sex, although the sex was fantastic. It was the intense emotional connection they felt, too.

Even though House had told Nolan he felt lost when Lydia left, House realized now that his feelings for her were more an artifact of his being able to feel anything again after having self-medicated with Vicodin and booze to the point of numbness for so long. Lydia was there when he detoxed and started to deal with his emotions in therapy, and he attached his revived feelings to her, almost like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

Likewise with what he thought were his feelings for Cuddy. She'd been part of his delusion, and she'd been a presence when he returned from Mayfield. He'd attached himself to her mainly because of their past and because he must have wanted some connection to a woman, and she happened to be the only woman he was more or less on speaking terms with. And that need had allowed him to gloss over all the shitty things she'd done to him or Lucas had done to him on her behalf. Looking back on it now, he wondered if at that point he was still a little bit crazy, thinking that he actually wanted Cuddy or that they ever could have been together.

Anyway, he knew what he had with Ann was not fleeting or illusory. This was the real deal. So, it made sense the sex was intense and satisfying. House was coming to understand that the relationship was enhancing the sex and the sex was making the relationship even better. He'd heard this was how it was supposed to work, but he had never encountered this personally, even with Stacy.

And it wasn't like he was trying to do this, nor, did he suspect, was Ann consciously trying, either. It was just working. Instead of all the downward spirals he had encountered most of his life, this was actually an upward one. He was genuinely surprised and grateful.

He also wondered what the sex would feel like when they were trying to get Ann pregnant. He's heard the male partners of his pregnant patients rave about how good the sex was when they were trying to conceive, but he'd always dismissed it as a bunch of overly-sentimentalized bullshit brought on by the purely biological male imperative to fertilize the female of the species.

He was beginning to see it was possible there was more to it than testosterone. As a scientist, he should have known that many of the common emotions humans felt surrounding procreation and child-rearing served an evolutionary purpose.

If males and females felt emotionally attached to their children and each other, it was a situation that was advantageous for the protection and nurturing of the young of the species. It also helped with the social and emotional development of the children, thus assisting them when it was their turn to reproduce and care for their children.

So, House was at least open to the idea that he might feel something. Something more than he already did, that is. Because, as a scientist, it made sense. And that was the only reason. Or, at least that was what House told himself.

New Year's Day was about what it should be – college football and sex. Since Ann couldn't drink, they hadn't gone the champagne route on New Year's Eve, and not drinking half a magnum of champagne had spared House a major hangover. Ann made a huge gourmet brunch, including caviar, which they didn't eat until one in the afternoon, so they had a very light dinner.

They eased back into their normal routine on Sunday, with House doing laundry and Ann cleaning, including putting away all the Christmas stuff. House was sure he was going to encounter major endorphin withdrawal (and, sadly, increased pain) when he returned to work and couldn't have sex three times a day anymore, but he'd find a way to cope, somehow.

The snow was cleared by Sunday night, and everyone returned to work on Monday. House resumed his cases and clinic duty. Ann was working on dealing with the remaining problems the end stage testing of the system had surfaced.

* * *

House had his appointment with Nolan at five p.m. on the seventh.

Holidays were fraught with issues for most of Nolan's patients, between the family gatherings, the enforced cheerfulness, the tendency to over spend and over-indulge, and even the lack of light. It was the busiest time of the year for him, with many patients needing emergency appointments.

House, being an atypical patient, hadn't contacted Nolan at all. Nolan didn't think it meant that House didn't have any problems, since he knew about the serious issues House had had in previous years. He just assumed House had tried to cope on his own and that it was Nolan's job to see how effective House had been in his attempts to deal with things.

"How were your holidays?" Nolan inquired.

"Good," House responded.

"In what way?"

"I didn't need a lot of booze because I had a lot of sex."

"Protected sex?"

"Um, not really necessary, seeing as how I'm in a committed relationship. Or did you forget that part?"

"Sorry. As you know, one common psychiatric symptom is promiscuity . . . "

"And you consider me promiscuous? I'm flattered."

"No, I don't. I was just saying that it's become habitual to check that my patients are practicing safe sex. Sorry."

"Not a problem."

"You seem to be in a fairly upbeat mood, at least for you."

"Again, the sex . . . "

"Since you're in a committed relationship, you're not using the sex to avoid things, are you?"

"Memory serves, there was some time for talking, too. In-between the sex."

"What did you talk about?"

"Her relationship with her family, things about her attack and her recovery, that we're moving in together, how cool our presents were . . . "

"I thought you weren't going to discuss living together until January."

"It just sort of came up."

Nolan seriously doubted that, so there was something going on. Nolan knew he would get to it. He just couldn't take the direct route.

"Where are you going to be living – your place, her place, or somewhere else?"

"Mine isn't big enough, and we don't want to move in the middle of the winter, so hers, at least for now."

"You've lived in that apartment for about fifteen years, haven't you? Won't it be tough to go?"

"Actually I haven't lived there much for the last two years, what with being here, then with Wilson, and then staying with Ann a lot."

"But you have some good associations with the place, don't you?"

"Maybe the first five years, when Stacy and I were getting along. After that, not so much."

"No?"

"Well, what happy memories would those be? Coming home with a mutilated leg and learning to walk again, in agony? Stacy leaving me? Drowning the next ten years in Vicodin and booze, with the occasional morphine chaser when the pain was beyond intolerable? Having empty sex with the hookers I invited in? Hallucinating Amber and becoming delusional about Cuddy? Returning because Wilson kicked me out? Hell, the only concentrated time I've spent alone there in the past six months was the week I thought Ann didn't love me any more. Yep, lots of fun times in _that_ place . . . "

"So, I guess I can assume, then, that it won't be traumatic for you to leave."

"Hardly."

That topic seemed to be exhausted, at least for now. Nolan had no doubt House would have issues with this major change in his life. It was just that until it officially happened, House didn't seem to need to talk about it.

In any case, Nolan sensed he still hadn't figured out what was really bothering House. He knew if he asked directly, he wouldn't get much other than sarcasm. He had to take the oblique approach.

"What presents did you get each other?"

"She got me an i-phone and an i-tunes gift card for five hundred dollars."

"Well, that's impressive. What else?"

"A sort of gift certificate for massages."

"Sort of?"

"Um, it's for massages from her."

"Is that some kind of euphemism for sex?"

"Well, it usually leads to some, but she does actually give me a pretty good massage first."

"Is she an LMT?"

"No, but she took some courses. She's as good as the LMTs I've used before."

"So, she helps with your pain?"

"Yes. Aren't you going to ask me what I got her?"

Nolan noted the quick change of focus to Ann. He decided he'd inquire later if there were any more presents for House, just to be safe. "Okay, what did she receive from you?"

"I gave her the emerald necklace before the Christmas party, like I told you last time."

"Anything else?"

"Two things. One was a gift certificate for manicures and pedicures."

"I didn't know you were able to do those."

"And I thought Jews were the funny psychiatrists! It's for her to have those things done at a salon."

"Well, that was very thoughtful."

"Not really. It was actually pretty selfish."

"In what way?"

"I like the way her hands and feet look when she has it done."

"Since I'm assuming she does, too, that doesn't sound very self-centered."

"Let me explain further. I like the way her hands look from the manicure when she touches me."

"I assume you mean in a sexual way. . . ."

"Yes. And I like the way her toes look because it makes me want to suck on them."

"As far as fetish behavior goes, that's pretty common and harmless, provided, of course, that she doesn't mind what you're doing."

"She seems to enjoy it, at least judging from the moans and the orgasms."

"Hers or yours?"

"Again with the sense of humor! Cedric the Entertainer would be proud!"

"Thanks, but my parents had other ideas. Did you get her anything else?"

"Yes. Another massage thing."

"At the salon where she gets the pedicures?"

"No, from me."

"That's very generous of you."

"Again, it's more along the lines of enlightened self-interest."

"In what way?"

"It was for feet, ankles and lower back, for as long as needed."

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

"I explained to her that because of the extra weight and the poor movement of fluids, her feet and ankles would swell, and that the extra weight concentrated in her abdomen would cause lower back pain. She figured out the duration would be about nine months."

"Okay, so it will during her possible pregnancy. I still don't see how that isn't a magnanimous thing to do."

"It'll cut down on complaints I'll have to listen to, for one thing. And her response was that between her pregnancy hormones and me touching her, I'd better get some Viagra because she was going to want a lot of sex."

"Well, that sounds like a win-win."

"Which means I'm getting something out of it."

"True. But that shouldn't make it problematic."

"Only in the sense that it's not a purely altruistic gift."

"And who said it had to be?"

"Well, no one, but-"

"This is an interesting philosophical exercise, Greg, but I don't think it's terribly useful in furtherance of your therapy. In fact, I'd say it was a delay tactic."

"Delay? Why would I want to delay?"

"You tell me."

House had been in therapy for more than a year and a half. One thing he had learned was that Nolan would eventually find out what House didn't want to talk about. So, in the interests of everyone's time, he'd learned to just come out with it. "It was the third gift she gave me. I wasn't expecting it at all."

"So, it was a surprise, which is not something you're completely comfortable with."

"And there was also the actual gift . . . "

"Which is?"

"An appointment with a pain management specialist."

"Oh, who?"

"Sanjay Shankar."

"Well, he is one of the best in his field. When is the appointment?"

"The sixteenth."

"Well, since you've never been willing to investigate this based on my recommendation, I'm assuming you're still reluctant. What did you tell Ann?"

"That I'd think about it."

"But you have no intention of going . . . "

"Actually, I do."

"Really? Well, that is good news.'

"No, it's not."

"Why not? Don't you think looking into getting some help with your pain will be a good thing?"

"I would, if I thought there was any way he could help me."

"How do you know he can't?"

"Well, setting aside the 'voodoo' stuff like acupuncture and chiropractic, there isn't really anything out there but drugs like the ones I'm not allowed to take unless I want to violate the terms of my employment."

"There could be something experimental you don't know about . . . "

"Not interested. I'm not putting my body or mind on the line for some experiment now that I have . . . "

"Have what?"

"Ann in my life. Besides, if I'm trying to get her pregnant, taking a drug with unknown side effects doesn't seem like the smartest idea."

"True. But there's something else you're not considering."

"What?"

"That the terms of your employment agreement can be changed."

"Like that would happen."

"It could, based on Shankar's and my recommendations."

"Please. I could get God to recommend it, and Cuddy wouldn't go along with it."

"How do you know that, if we made a good case for it? Besides, it's not up to her, at least not completely."

"The board would never agree to something that she didn't recommend, especially for the likes of me."

"Greg, stop looking at this like it's personal. These people are professionals and it is possible that they can behave in a detached manner and consider this logically."

"That's not going to happen and we both know it. Stop trying to give me false hope."

"I guess I would argue that it isn't false."

"I know these people a lot better than you do. They aren't about to do me any favors."

"This isn't about favors. It's about appropriate treatment for the chronic pain of one of their employees."

"They'll think I'm just trying to score drugs again. That I want to go back to being an addict."

"Have you done that since you left here over a year ago?"

"No."

"And how do they know that?"

"You know perfectly well how they do – random drug tests."

"Well, if they don't want to trust you with this, they can always test you, can't they?"

"It's just not going to happen."

"Greg, I know it's difficult for you to believe that things can work out. But, I don't think it's such an outrageous idea in this case. You are actually going to see Shankar, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you must have some hope he can help you."

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you going?"

"For Annie. She wants me to. It's an afternoon out of my life to make her happy."

Nolan was silent for a moment. House could see he was processing something. "Well, Greg, our time is about up. I would like you to think about a positive outcome for this pain management appointment. And . . . "

"And?"

"I'm more than pleased that you're actually doing something simply because you care enough about someone else to make them happy. That's a breakthrough in and of itself. I must meet this woman someday. She must be quite something."

"She is."

* * *

A/N: Sorry to anyone who is a big believer in acupuncture and chiropractic. These aren't necessarily my views, but I'm trying to write House's perspective, based on show canon. And as we all know, House isn't exactly a fan of alternative medicine.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, blah, blah

House still thought Nolan had his head up his ass when it came to thinking that either Cuddy or anyone on the hospital board would lift a finger to help him. Even Wilson wouldn't go to bat for him because of the strain in their relationship.

And even if there hadn't been distance between them, House thought Wilson still wouldn't have helped him. Wilson had made it clear time and again that he thought most of House's pain was psychosomatic, that House never needed the drugs he took for it, and that House was basically just another addict.

House decided that he didn't want to deal with all this right now, and he focused as best he could on his cases. Ann was quite busy winding up the project, and she worked several late nights. They weren't seeing much of each other except for sex and sleep.

House had always thought that would be an ideal relationship, but, truth be told, he missed talking to her. She was interesting and never let him get away with any bullshit. And she genuinely cared about him, including not being arrogant enough to think she knew better than he did what he should do. He loved her for it. Well, that and her huge, beautiful ass.

And as little as he was seeing her now, he knew if she had to work on a contract elsewhere he'd be seeing her even less. He didn't want to think about that, either.

His appointment with Shankar was fast approaching.

Ann asked House if he wanted her to go with him. House's initial inclination was to say no. And then he thought it might not be bad if she just traveled back and forth with him, since it was a long trip and he would like the company. They could make up for some lost time together.

Finally, he realized that if she came with him to the appointment itself, he wouldn't have to explain everything to her and re-live the whole experience. That would be easier for him, if for no other reason than he wouldn't have to tell her the bad news himself. It was cowardly, he knew, but he just couldn't stand the thought of being the one to disappoint her.

Since they had to travel, House and Ann decided to take the full day off. Cuddy wasn't happy with either of them because they wouldn't explain why, but there was nothing Cuddy could do about it. Ann did a little work from home in the morning and they left around ten, getting into the city in time for a leisurely lunch and a stop at a store that specialized in rare recordings of classical music that House knew Ann would like.

They arrived a little early and found themselves waiting in Shankar's office. Usually House read magazines or played video games before his appointments, but he was too nervous to do either of those things, so he sat in his seat and held Ann's hand so no one would see him shaking.

Ann could feel the tremors and thought it was because he was nervous and hopeful. He had been good enough at hiding his fears from her that she had no idea that he was worried about her – that she would be disappointed. House had never known this feeling before – being afraid he would suffer solely because of someone else's pain. He was certain Nolan would consider it some kind of breakthrough – it sure as hell hurt enough for one.

After about a half-hour wait, they were shown into Shankar's office at precisely four o'clock.

"Doctor House, Ms. Mueller, please take a seat," Shankar directed them to the two chairs in front of his desk.

"How are you feeling today, Doctor House?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm not going to insult your intelligence by describing the pain scale to you. What is your number today?"

"It started out pretty good, about a five. But, we've been walking around a while, so I'd say it's gone up to a six."

"I see," Shankar noted. "And what would be a really good day for you?"

"About a four," House responded.

Ann was familiar with the pain scale from the time she was in the hospital after her attack. She'd had bruises and knife wounds all over her body, and had had surgery, and, with the help of medication, she'd never gone higher than a five. Even at that point, she was in bad shape.

And House was hurting more than that right now? And he thought a four was a good day? And then people wondered why he was in a bad mood so much of the time? Ann knew if she felt like he did, she'd be ready to rip the head off anyone that so much as looked at her.

And no wonder he'd used so much Vicodin for so long. Hadn't anyone tried to do anything to help him? The extent of Doctor Wilson, his so-called friend's help was to write him scripts and doubt he had a problem other than being an addict.

And what Doctor Cuddy had done was even worse, a least in Ann's mind. Even before she'd done all those terrible things to him like the tripwire, Doctor Cuddy was always trying to control House, making him do clinic duty, which was a waste of House's brilliance and talent, and constantly threatening his job.

It seemed to Ann that Cuddy was a second-rate doctor, who got off on exercising control over her brilliant, world-famous employee. And with all the coercive tactics Cuddy appeared to enjoy using, she hadn't done the one thing that would have helped House, namely, make him go to a doctor and get treated for his pain.

The only thing Ann could reasonably conclude was that Cuddy was some sort of sadist who enjoyed watching House destroy himself with drugs, breaking his self-esteem and even injuring him physically, or sending her boyfriend as her proxy. Ann was furious, but she decided this was neither the time nor the place to express that. She turned her focus back to the conversation between the two doctors.

"So, Doctor House, according to your file, your pain is caused from both muscle and nerve damage," Shankar read. "This is one of the more complex cases I have dealt with, but I'm certain there is a combination of drugs that will provide you a good amount of relief without causing either psychiatric symptoms or toxicity."

Ann felt hope at hearing that. She looked at House, expecting to see hope on his face as well. Instead, she saw frustration.

"What kind of drugs are we talking about here?" House questioned. "Anything potentially mood-altering?"

"As part of the program, most likely, yes," Shankar replied.

"Can't do it."

"I know you have a concern based on your prior usage. But if we keep the pain down with a combination of drugs, you should avoid building up a tolerance that would lead to the use of larger and larger amounts. You would not have any problems with hallucinations or delusions in that case."

"That's good. But, I don't think I'll even get the chance to try."

"Why not?"

"My conditions of employment don't allow it."

"Would you explain that to me, please?"

"As part of Princeton Plainsboro agreeing to my return to work after my stint in Mayfield, I had to agree not to use any drugs that could potentially be mood-altering."

"I'm certain the agreement was meant to prevent you from self-medicating to the point that you had before you went into Mayfield. Under a physician's care, with drug testing as proof, I'm sure that can be modified."

"I'm not. My administrator and everyone on the board sees a drug addict when they see me. If I go back to using anything stronger than an analgesic, I'm sure they'll fire me."

Shankar took a deep breath while he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He replaced them. "Undoubtedly, you can tell from my accent that I am not originally from this country."

"You sound British," Ann interjected.

"My parents were émigrés from India to London in the nineteen-seventies. I received my university education and medical training in Britain before I came to this country."

"This is all fascinating, but what does it have to do with anything?" House inquired.

"Nothing other than to remind me once again what a ridiculously Puritanical country the United States is. Even when you are not in pain, drug addiction is not about some character flaw. It's a physical illness. And when you are in pain, the appropriate use of drugs is not only humane, it's medically necessary. Many of the people on this board are physicians, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Surely they know the toll that chronic pain takes on the human body. The constant high level of stress hormones can take years off a patient's life, let alone destroy the quality of that life by ruining professional and personal relationships, not to mention the isolation and stigma most people in chronic pain feel. Let me just say one of the less attractive features of your national culture is the prevailing belief that anyone, anywhere not killing themselves either working or suffering in agony is somehow shiftless and morally weak."

There was a pause.

"Pardon my getting up on my soapbox, but it's an occupational hazard," Shankar explained. "I just would like you to know that I'm willing to assist you, Doctor House."

"So, what happens now?" House asked.

"Today, we are going to discuss my diagnosis and recommendations. After that, I will send a copy of my report to Doctor Cuddy, with a cover letter informing her that, based on my diagnosis, your employment agreement needs to be modified. Doctor Nolan will send a similar letter, from his perspective as your psychiatrist, of course. You will then meet with Doctor Cuddy to discuss this."

House snorted again. "That's going to be a fun meeting . . . "

"If anything, it should be perfunctory," Shankar stated, his expression displaying puzzlement at House's reaction. "The letters provide her the support she will need to go to the board and change the agreement."

"You don't know Cuddy, and you don't know my history with her," House responded, "It's hardly going to be 'perfunctory.' "

"Both her personality and your history with her are irrelevant in this case," Shankar noted. "This is a physician's recommendation for the treatment of his patient. If she had an injured worker returning from disability leave, would she disregard the recommendations of the worker's physician when the employee came back to work? As a competent administrator, I hardly think so."

"I'm sure she won't see it that way."

"Again, what she 'sees' is irrelevant. There is an objective reality here with facts to support it. As the hospital administrator, and as a physician herself, she must act."

"If you say so."

Shankar proceeded to provide his diagnosis and recommendations. House and Ann didn't say much. They were pretty quiet on the way home as well.

They had a late dinner and got ready for bed.

"Well, today was pretty exhausting," Ann observed as they lay in bed. "What with the travel . . . and everything."

"I take it the appointment wasn't what you expected," House responded.

"Not really."

"What surprised you?"

"Honestly? I thought there was certainly a possibility Doctor Shankar wouldn't be able to do anything for you, so what he told us was encouraging . . . "

"But?"

"But I didn't realize how hard it would be to get the hospital to let someone help you."

"Let's just say there is a long, unhappy history there, and because of what I've done, no one is likely to trust me at this point."

"But didn't Doctor Shankar say it wasn't about trust? That you could be tested to make sure you weren't using more than the prescribed amount?"

"True. But it's also about helping me out. And given how I've treated people, they aren't likely to do that."

"Didn't Doctor Shankar also say it isn't about being kind or decent? That it was about appropriate medical treatment for an employee?"

"It all sounds perfectly reasonable, but I just don't think it's going to happen. I know all the parties involved too well."

"Okay."

"You sound disappointed."

"I am. And I'm really frustrated, too. I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around all this."

"It's not that complicated. At least the treatment isn't."

"That's not what I mean."

"Well, what is it, then?"

"I guess I'm just naïve. In my profession, we encounter human limitations and computer limitations. The projects that are the most successful aren't the ones where the people work around the computer's shortcomings, it's where we figure out ways to make the computer serve the people. And there are enough instances where the computer is just too limited to really be of use. Those are the most frustrating situations. You get to the point where you're tearing your hair out trying to fix the problem. So, I just don't get having a solution in your hand and ignoring it simply because you don't like the person the solution helps. It's completely beyond me that any adult would behave that way."

House looked at her intently. She continued.

"It's one of our more unfortunate tendencies as humans to look at ideas and concepts as though they were reality. Take the idea of race, for example. The untold amount of suffering that has been caused by someone's decision somewhere to categorize people this way is astonishing. And you know as a scientist, there are no actual biological differences between people. All those centuries of the most incredible brutality because of an idea, and a wrong-headed one at that! We create these constructs and we can't see past them, even when they are faulty and they injure us or those around us. It's pathetic, really."

House understood all too well what Ann was talking about. He'd spent his entire professional life forcing other physicians to see past their noses and look at the reality of the medical situation in of front of them. Too many doctors simply followed a script for diagnosis, and because most illnesses did follow a recognizable pattern, they were successful most of the time. The problem was when something didn't follow the script. Then these doctors became frustrated and, in some cases, even blamed the patient. House had his own experience with that. And painful, or sometimes even tragic results usually followed.

Even in his personal life, he'd made some effort to break out of old patterns. With therapy and Ann's help, he'd learned that despite what his father and most of his so-called friends had taught him, he really was worthy of the good things that happened to him.

For all that, it didn't mean he had any hope that his meds could be modified. There were just too many people who didn't believe he could change to let that happen. But, at least he'd found this little corner of sanity and comfort in his life. That was almost enough.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ann asked

"Yeah," House replied. "So, what you're saying is that rules and appearances and personalities don't matter, results matter."

"Pretty much."

Ann saw small smile appear on House's face.

"So, do you think Doctor Shankar and Doctor Nolan can help?"

"I doubt it."

Ann looked pensive. "Well, there's always Plan B."

"What do you mean?"

"If the terms of your employment can't be changed, why not change your employment?"

"You mean leave Princeton Plainsboro?"

"Why not? You're not an indentured servant."

"No one would hire me."

"Who told you that? Doctor Cuddy, I suppose."

"Why would you guess that?"

"Because that's what my former boss, Carl, was always telling us. We were bad employees with bad attitudes and no other employer would want us. It was in his interest to make us think that. If he could convince the people who worked for him that we were poor performers, he wouldn't have to give us any raises because we didn't 'merit' them. That meant either more in the budget for his raise, or, that he looked like a hero to upper management because he was keeping costs down. It also kept us from looking elsewhere for a job because we were convinced no on else would hire us."

House thought about that and his situation. He was always saying Cuddy was an evil administrator, but, between the sexual tension and all the emotional stuff that had happened between them, he really only saw the relationship in personal terms. But, that didn't mean that was the way Cuddy saw it. Could she really have been programming him all these years to accept his low salary and whatever narrative she planted in his head about no one else wanting him just so she could keep him at her hospital?

Sure, he occasionally broke expensive equipment and he generated lawsuits, but those lawsuits were dismissed because he'd cured the vast majority of his patients. And Cuddy had the reputation of being a rainmaker when it came to donations, but had she been using _his_ reputation all these years to get that money?

It seemed too evil and calculating, but hadn't Cuddy done some pretty awful things to him in the last couple of years? And, even before that, all the stuff she had done that supposedly showed that she cared could have been all about protecting her hospital's best asset.

Sitting by his bedside after the DBS was more about worrying that her star doctor's brain was gone rather than caring about him personally. Her giving him the mouth-to-mouth after his heart attack from the physostigmine was to keep her top physician alive. Her perjury during the Tritter debacle also kept her most skilled doctor out of jail and saved his reputation.

Even giving up the one-hundred million from Vogler was not to save House, he now realized. For his money, Vogler wanted to run the hospital. And it also made Cuddy's fundraising efforts pretty much moot. Both of these things put her job in jeopardy. So, she must have decided that Vogler had to go, and House's rebellion against Vogler provided her the perfect means to get rid of him.

And all these things also gave Cuddy something to hold over House. It was an added benefit for her that she could play on his sense of guilt that he owed his job, his career, his freedom, even his life to her.

And even the personal stuff took on a different appearance in this light. He always knew she wore provocative clothes to get the attention of male donors. But, could she also have been wearing them to get his attention and distract him from what she was really doing?

He remembered when that teenage girl was stalking him. When Cuddy saw House's male ego being stroked by the attention the girl was giving him, Cuddy had said that men were stupid. She had obviously made a career out of using her physical attributes to get what she wanted. Since she felt that way about men in general, why wouldn't she feel that way about House in particular?

That could even be why she was with Lucas. He was obviously cruel and manipulative, and, if Cuddy were the same, it was a match made in heaven. Or hell.

Even Cuddy's hostile feelings toward Ann could be explained this way. Instead of her behavior being sexual jealously, it could be fear that Ann would recognize that House was being manipulated and that Ann would help him to recognize it, too.

"Hey, where did you go?" Ann asked.

"Just thinking about what you said about Cuddy. It makes sense," House observed.

"Although they may use different tactics, all bosses from hell are basically the same – using you to get ahead themselves."

"So, you think I could work somewhere else?"

"Any teaching hospital would be lucky to get you."

"You know, I pissed off a few people before I was hired at Princeton Plainsboro. It might not be so easy to get another job around here."

"Who says you have to stay in Princeton, or even New Jersey?"

"What about you?"

"What about me? I've lived in New York, California and here. I obviously don't mind moving."

"Well, the medical community is pretty small. I may have a not-so-good reputation in most of this country . . . "

"Do you know that's the case, or is that just what Doctor Cuddy told you? And even if it turns out to be true, who said you had to work in this country? There are other English-speaking parts of the world. We could go to Australia and take Robert and Danielle with us. And you and I both speak multiple languages, so it doesn't even have to be an English-speaking country. Wouldn't it be cool to raise our child in Europe? Or Asia? Or South America? Even Africa would be amazing. All I need is reliable indoor plumbing and a dependable internet connection."

"What about your family?"

"Bob could use all that vacation he has, and he and Deidre could spend all summer with us. And Tom and Sharon could come any time, now that they're retired."

"You'd actually move . . . for _me_?"

"I was at the appointment, remember? I heard that part about chronic pain and stress hormones taking years off people's lives. If I thought it would let me love you as long as possible, I'd go anywhere with you, Greg."

House found himself staring at her. God, this woman would literally go to the ends of the earth, if it would let her be with him a little longer. House's chest was flooded with the most intense feelings. It was almost overwhelming. He wanted to tell her what he was experiencing, but couldn't without losing it entirely, so he decided to show her.

He leaned in and gave her tender kisses all around her face and neck.

He continued down to her collarbone, kissing, licking and nipping the skin in the hollows because he knew how much pleasure it gave her. He reached her breasts and licked softly, taking his time to cover the entire surface. He lingered on her nipples, driving her crazy.

House traveled on to her navel, making her writhe as his tongue dipped inside. He went off to her left for a brief kiss of her scar before he kissed and licked her along her hairline. He could feel Ann shiver beneath him.

After spending some time kissing her mound, he bent down to her center. His tongue worked its way around her lips as his fingers found their way inside. His tongue moved up to her clit and licked gently yet thoroughly while his fingers caressed her g spot.

Ann's head was thrown back and she was moaning with pleasure. "Oh God, Greg!" she cried as her orgasm seized her body. Was there anything more beautiful than this woman's face contorted in pleasure, House wondered.

Ann reached down and stroked House briefly, ensuring he was at full height.

"I need you inside me, Greg," she whispered in a husky voice as she guided him to her entrance. He pushed himself in.

Because of the intense feelings he was experiencing, House almost came the first time he felt her body clutch at his. It took all his willpower to hold on. He kept it together by thinking he had to make her see how much she meant to him, since words, at least his words, would never be enough.

As he pumped, Ann was filled completely. Her body felt like it was on fire. As her orgasm hit, everything below her waist melted and she cried out his name.

House simply couldn't hold back anymore. He exploded inside her and moaned as the lower half of his body shook uncontrollably.

The vibrations from his body on her already overloaded nerve endings brought on another, even more intense climax. She felt it travel from her center to the tips of her toes and to the top of her head.

They held each other as they floated, neither really wanting to come down to earth. In this state, there were no contracts about to be finished and new ones that required travel separating them. There were no worries about pain and its physical impact and the need to fight to get appropriate treatment for that pain. There were no evil, manipulative bosses and hostile hospital boards. There was only their connection. Their strong, beautiful, sweet, loving connection.

They fell into a deep, worry-free sleep.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I don't know much about drug testng, so please no complaints that you can't tell quantity of usage from a drug test. I need it to make the story work, so let's pretend. It is called fiction, after all. ;D


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: A brief discussion here about place names and places. This chapter has Ann working on a project in Lexington, Kentucky. I just wanted to address any comments or questions about House's mom and where she lives. I know on the show they said Lexington, but I believe it's Lexington, Virginia, not Lexington, Kentucky.

For one thing, the drive to Lexington, Virginia from Princeton, New Jersey is about 375 miles and a little more than six hours, whereas the drive to Lexington, Kentucky from Princeton is about 675 miles and eleven and a half hours. So, it's much more plausible that Wilson would be able to drive House to John's funeral if it were in Virginia rather than Kentucky.

In addition, Lexington, Kentucky is horse country, and while we know House has a fondness for the horses, we have no such indication for his parents. And Lexington, Virginia has a lot more things of interest to a military man like John, such as VMI, General Stonewall Jackson's House, a museum honoring General George C. Marshall and Washington and Lee University, where Robert E. Lee is buried. It also happens to be a beautiful little town, nestled in the Shenendoah Valley. (And now I can collect my commission from the Virginia Tourism Board. Seriously, it's an interesting, lovely place and well worth a visit or even a stay. Not that I'm saying Lexington, Kentucky, isn't. Or Lexington, Massachusetts, for that matter, which has its own history - fired the shot heard 'round the world, etc.)

So, if anyone is wondering why I didn't write anything about Ann meeting Blythe in Lexington, it's because I think Blythe is living in Virginia, not Kentucky.

Okay, on with the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs

Of course, when they got up the next morning, the problems were still there. At least they had each other to help deal with them.

Ann finished up her work at PPTH in late January. The nurses had a party for her at the hospital, much to Cuddy's consternation and House's enjoyment of that consternation. Ann had been in contact with her boss, and even though the company had pending contracts in New Jersey and Philadelphia, he wanted her to work on a contract in Lexington, Kentucky.

Ann wasn't thrilled with the idea, but she thought she could manage it if she flew in on Sunday night and left to go back home to New Jersey on Thursday. It was a good chunk of time away and she knew she would miss House, but she thought it would be okay. House reluctantly agreed.

It turned out that February was one of the coldest months on record in both the eastern part of the country and the mid-west. In one way it was a good thing because such cold weather meant things were relatively dry, and Ann didn't encounter snow or ice storms when she was traveling.

It turned out to be not so good for House. Between the intense cold and the reduced endorphins because he and Ann were unable to have sex as often, his leg was really killing him. Maker's Mark became his best friend at night (at least the four nights a week that Ann wasn't home) and his intake of ibuprofen during the day at work when he couldn't drink became almost constant.

By the third week of January, both Shankar and Nolan offices informed House that Cuddy had been sent letters containing recommendations for changes to his pain management regimen. He waited in dread for the meeting, but it didn't come. He busied himself with cases to take his mind off of it.

By the first week of February, he had been called by both Nolan and Shankar, but had told them he hadn't heard from Cuddy. Both of their offices contacted Cuddy, whose receptionist of the week claimed the paperwork had never been received. Since they were sent from separate offices at separate times, it was a startling coincidence that both letters just "happened" to get lost in the mail.

Both physicians were suspicious, but they couldn't prove anything. House was positive Cuddy had just shredded everything so she wouldn't have to deal with it. Nolan and Shankar sent the paperwork again, this time certified mail with return receipt, so they would know Cuddy had it.

Valentine's Day was on a Monday, which meant Ann was away. They did have their first barrier-free sex the Saturday night before, and it was awesome, as House suspected. A part of him had almost wished he'd been wrong about that, because it only made him miss Ann that much more when she left on Sunday afternoon.

March arrived with little fanfare, and, frustratingly, no break in the cold. House's pain continued to intensify and he medicated himself as best he could.

It was the third week of March, and Ann was at the point in the installation where it didn't need quite so much attention. She was able to leave a day early and she arrived home on Wednesday night, hoping to surprise House.

She arrived at Newark at eight-thirty and by the time she got home, it was ten. She didn't think House would be asleep, but she let herself in quietly just in case. She removed her coat and shoes and put down her briefcase in the foyer. She left her suitcase by the door of the laundry room so she could empty the dirty clothes into the washer in the morning. She headed toward the bedroom.

She saw a low light as she entered the hallway, and heard what sounded like grunting noises coming from inside the room.

She stopped at the doorway and stood in the shadows. She saw House, propped up against the headboard. He was, well, she was surprised to see, touching himself. In fact, he had a partial hard-on and was stroking himself to get something more.

Ann didn't know how to react. There was a part of her, the awkward teenager part, that wanted to giggle. There was also the analytical consultant part of her that wanted to see what technique House was using so that she could learn what pleased him and use it in the future. Finally, there was the horny woman part of her that missed the frequent sex and just wanted to watch this incredibly hot man get himself off.

She stood there silently as things progressed, noticing that her panties were starting to feel a little wet. It seemed horny woman was in ascendancy at this point. As he got closer and closer, she noticed that she was rocking back and forth silently in time to the rhythm he was using.

Those long, exquisite fingers were traveling up and down his cock, twisting and touching all the places that gave him pleasure. As Ann observed him, she noticed that she had gone from feeling merely horny to feeling something else. She couldn't define exactly what it was, but it felt both sweet and sad. As House neared his climax, this feeling continued to grow.

A moment later, he exploded all over his abdomen. It was, as usual, a magnificent sight. After he was done, House pushed down on the bed. He put his arm over his eyes, just like he had when his hands had been shaking and he hadn't been able to eat the soup that night his patient had died. Suddenly, the sadness inside Ann surged.

"Annie," House said softly, in his most ragged breath.

Ann was suddenly overwhelmed with the most intense sorrow she had felt in a long time. Maybe even since her father died. She stumbled out of the bedroom and headed down the hall, her vision blurry from unshed tears. She reached the laundry room, flipped on the light, went inside and closed the door behind her. She sat down on the folding chair in the corner and wept.

God, how could she have done this to him? She knew his physical pain had been increasing because they weren't having sex as often. She had no idea how lonely he was. She ached inside for him.

After a few minutes, the tears subsided. She knew she had to do something. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

* * *

Even though Ann had been gone a lot, House hadn't really been jacking off all that much. But tonight the cold and the solitude had just gotten to him. He hoped a few endorphins might make his leg stop screaming a little bit and take the edge of his loneliness.

It had worked, for about two minutes, and then it all came crashing down on him. He was still alone and his leg was still killing him. This was almost worse than before he had Ann. At least then, he'd accepted his solitude as a part of his life. Now that he'd experienced the warmth of another human being, it was so much harder to be without it. Without her.

After he finished cleaning himself up in the bathroom, House decided to go get some Maker's Mark. He knew he was drinking too much, but he just didn't see any other way to deal with all his pain.

As he limped toward the kitchen, he saw a light under the laundry room door. He hadn't done any laundry since Sunday, and he was pretty sure he'd have noticed the light before now if he had left it on.

As he moved closer to the room, he saw Ann's suitcase in the hall. His heart leapt in his chest as he realized she was home a day early. His happiness was quickly replaced by curiosity as he heard voices coming from inside the room.

He surmised that Ann must be making a call and that she must have put the phone on speaker. A small part of him said it wasn't a good idea to listen in, but he really couldn't help himself when it came to a puzzle.

He knew he couldn't stand for any length of time, so he quietly slid down until he was sitting with his legs out in front of him and his back resting against the wall. He could hear Ann and whomever she was talking to quite well.

"I'm sorry to call you so late at home, Bill," Ann said.

"It's three hours earlier here, remember?" A male voice responded. "What's up, Annie?"

"It's this job in Kentucky . . . "

"Are you having a lot of problems?"

"No more so than usual. It's not that; it's the commute."

"Yeah, it is a long plane ride, I'm sure. I'll pay for a move if you want to go live there."

"No, I don't. I just don't want to travel there any more."

"Are you trying to wrangle a bit more pay out of me, Annie?"

"I know every salary negotiation book would tell me I'm an idiot for what I'm about to say, but, no, I'm not looking to get more money."

"So, what do you really want?"

"I want to work here, near where I live."

"Wow, you love New Jersey _that_ much?"

"It's not so much the place as . . . "

"The guy, eh? The doctor?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds serious."

"It is. I probably shouldn't tell you this, and you have to promise not to tell anyone else, but we're trying to have a baby."

"That's fantastic! And I'm guessing all this travel is interfering with, um, your _getting_ _together_."

"It's not just that. I wonder if . . . well, my last period was heavy and I wonder if I might have miscarried."

"Oh, I hope not, Annie."

There was a slight pause. House was intrigued by what Ann was saying. They only had had sex without birth control for two cycles. Ann did get her period for the previous cycle, and it was heavy, but that wasn't unusual for her. In the nine months they'd been together, House had seen he didn't know how many boxes in the bathroom of "super" this and "for heavy flow" that.

He'd even had Ann go to her OB/GYN to make sure that she didn't have a fibroid or endometriosis. Everything had come back negative; she just had heavy periods. So, there was no indication that last month she had any kind of event other than her normal menstruation.

One of the things House admired about Ann was her honesty. But it seemed to him that, while what she was saying was factual, the conclusion she was drawing was, well, not correct. And she probably knew that. So, why was she doing it?

Then House remembered something Ann had told him about her boss. He and his wife had three kids, but they also had had a stillbirth and three miscarriages. So, Ann must have been playing the sympathy card. Man, she really wanted to stay with him, didn't she?

After almost two months of traveling, House wondered why it had become so urgent that Ann get to stay in New Jersey. When had she gotten home tonight, anyway? Had she seen his pathetic display? Shit.

House didn't need to hear any more of the conversation. He wanted to get the hell out – to run away from the whole thing. But, he'd promised Ann he wouldn't do that. So, he painfully pulled himself up and headed to the bedroom. His reckoning would come soon enough.

Ann finished her conversation, extracting a promise that she wouldn't have to travel for the next few weeks, at least, and that Bill would try to find her something to work on locally.

She left the laundry room and headed toward the bedroom. With any luck, House would be asleep and she could tell him everything in the morning.

As she got near the room, she saw the light was on. Damn. Well, she might as well get this over with.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," Ann called out as she entered the room.

"Hi," House said. He was trying to sound completely neutral.

Ann didn't know how to interpret what she perceived as his lack of enthusiasm. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Oh."

"So, how was your week?"

"I was able to cut it short. I thought you would be happy to see me."

"I am."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"I would have thought my previous display would have been enough for you. Have you been crying? Was it that pathetic?"

Ann realized she hadn't washed up before she left the laundry room. She had dried tears all over her face. "Yes. No. I mean, I was crying, and it wasn't because you were pathetic."

"Then why?"

"When I first started watching you, it was kind of hot. After a while, I realized that you were doing it because you were lonely and in pain. My being away hurt you, and I never want to hurt you. It made me sad."

"You rarely cry. So, it was a little more than sad, wasn't it? You sure those weren't pity tears?"

"I don't pity you and I never have. When the person you love more than anything, more than your own life hurts, you hurt right along with them. When you're the cause of the pain, it's just . . . brutal. I'm so sorry for leaving you."

"You can't help it."

"Sure I can. I don't have to do this, and I'm not going to any more. I got Bill to agree to let me stay here for the next few weeks, at least. And he promised me he'd find something for me to work on locally."

"I got up to get something from the kitchen and I saw the light under the door of the laundry room. I went to turn it off. I heard through the door what you said to your boss to get him to agree. That wasn't one-hundred per cent honest, was it?"

"What?"

"Saying that you had a heavy period and that you might have miscarried."

"Well, I did have a heavy period."

"You always do."

"And any woman having unprotected sex could have an embryo that fails to implant or one that does implant but fails during the same menstrual cycle. So, since I had unprotected sex, I _could_ have miscarried, at least theoretically . . . "

"Next you're going to tell me it depends on what his definition of 'is' is. I think you missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer."

"Would you have wanted another relationship with an attorney?"

"Her legal background wasn't the problem."

"What was?"

"Nice try at deflection. I'm not going to get into my history with Stacy right now."

"Okay."

"So, you're going to be home for the next few weeks?"

"Yes."

"If I had any wood left, we could celebrate."

"How tired are your hands?"

House smiled in spite of himself. Maybe Ann hadn't been completely honest. But House was sure as hell in no position to judge anyone else's manipulations. And it got the job done.

"They're getting more energetic as we speak," House proclaimed as he wiggled his fingers. Ann giggled and lay back on the bed. House expertly pleasured her until she climaxed three times before they went to sleep.

At home, at least, the next few days were great. Ann worked remotely on her project and House worked at the hospital, coming home each night to a warm bed with an even warmer body in it.

His leg continued to bother him, but it was still very cold. The weather was supposed to warm up early next week, and between that and the endorphins he was getting from the increased amount of sex, he was sure his leg would calm down. In the meantime, he was still pretty heavily into the alcohol and the ibuprofen.

His case was solved by Thursday, and he spent his time on Friday in the clinic. Ann came in to the hospital to meet him for lunch.

They sat down in the cafeteria and began eating and talking.

"You don't have much on your tray today," Ann observed.

"My stomach has been acting up a bit lately. I'm probably taking too much stuff. Once the weather warms up, I'll cut back."

"I hope you're able to use less. I have a nice dinner planned for tomorrow night. I invited Danielle and Robert over for filet and lobster."

"Sounds good."

As a matter of fact, it didn't sound good at all to House. He wanted to spend the weekend alone with Ann and his stomach was giving him enough trouble that he was sure he wouldn't be able to eat all that expensive food. But, for some reason, he just didn't have the energy to argue about it. Maybe if he stayed away from the booze tonight, he'd feel better by tomorrow night. That would probably do the trick, he thought.

House returned to the clinic after lunch and Ann stayed at the hospital for the afternoon, waiting for him to finish up. She went to several of the nurses' stations and spoke to them. They were all very happy with the new system, which genuinely pleased her. After she finished doing that, it was around three. She decided to go up to House's office and wait for him. She hoped he might have been able to sneak out of the clinic and she would find him watching Prescription Passion.

When she got there, he wasn't around, so she went into the conference room. She was talking to House's team when their pagers went off. At first, she assumed it was a patient.

Her anxiety began to rise when Foreman told her they didn't have a patient, and they were being paged to the clinic. Ann and Hadley used the elevator while Chase, Foreman and Taub used the stairs.

Unfortunately, the elevator they took was crowded and seemed to make lengthy stops on every floor as people got off and got on. Ann was about ready to jump out of her skin when they finally reached the first floor.

What she saw when she pushed her way off the elevator confirmed her worst fears. House was lying on his side, on a stretcher. He was unconscious and there was blood coming out of his mouth.

"What's going on?" Ann shouted as they hurriedly wheeled him past, heading toward the ER.

Brenda took Ann aside. "He was in an exam room with a patient when he collapsed. When we found he was unconscious, we put him on a stretcher. They just took him to the ER. They'll figure out what's wrong with him and fix him up, I'm sure."

Ann was sure of no such thing, but she shoved down her doubts and let herself be led to the ER waiting room. The team decided that Hadley should sit with her while everyone else found out what was going on and if they could help.

Ann didn't know Doctor Hadley very well. House didn't talk about her (or, for that matter, any of his fellows) that much. Ann knew Hadley was bisexual and that she had Huntington's. Neither of those things seemed like a great topic for casual conversation.

Besides, in times of crisis, Ann didn't want to talk to someone she barely knew. She wanted her family around her.

As if on cue, Danielle came rushing into the waiting room. "What's going on?" she asked breathlessly. "Is Greg okay?"

Hadley was relieved to see that she wouldn't have to stay in the waiting room any longer and baby sit House's girlfriend. She didn't mean to be callous, but she hardly knew the woman. Plus, she really wasn't good at comforting people. "I'll go see if I can find out what's happening," she told Ann and Danielle as she got up and headed to the exam rooms.

Danielle waited for Hadley to go. She turned to Ann and held out her arms. Ann fell into them.

"Oh, Dani, what am I going to do if something happens to him?"

"Take it easy, Annie. We don't know anything yet."

"I saw him on a stretcher and there was blood coming out of his mouth. That can't be good."

"But it may not be that bad. Even though we work in hospitals, we're not medical personnel. We don't know what we're looking at. Try not to panic, okay?"

"Okay."

They sat together quietly for what seem like an eternity, but it was only about a half-hour. Finally, Chase came out to the waiting room.

"They're taking him up to the OR," Chase informed them. "From what we can see, he has a couple of bleeding ulcers. They'll patch up his stomach and stop the bleeding. He's lost a lot of blood, so they're going to have to transfuse him."

"He said his stomach was bothering him," Ann stated. "I didn't know it was that bad."

"He lives with pain every day," Chase reminded her. "He probably didn't know it was that bad himself. He has no history of ulcers, and this came on suddenly and severely. Do you have any idea why?"

"He's been drinking more since January. I remember when I went to AA that they told us heavy drinking can cause stomach problems, but I don't think he was drinking that much . . . "

"You were traveling a lot, and you don't really know what he was doing when you weren't there. Besides, he was popping Ibuprofen constantly, at least while he was here at the hospital. I'll bet the combination was what did it."

"He was in so much pain with the cold weather . . . " Ann was about to say that House couldn't take anything for it, but she had just enough presence of mind to stop herself. It was likely House didn't want people to know that his employment agreement prevented him from having any meds that would help his pain.

Chase sensed Ann was holding back something, but he thought this wasn't the right time to push to find out what it was. He'd get the information later. "I'm going to take you to the OR waiting room. And then I'll scrub in and make sure they take care of him, okay?"

Chase led them to another waiting room, much like the last one, except it was on the second floor. They sat and waited.

After several hours, Chase appeared again. He smiled inwardly when he saw Ann's head in Danielle's lap, and Danielle stroking Ann's hair. It was like seeing two sisters, one caring for the other in a difficult time. It gave him hope that even if you didn't have a family that loved you, it was possible to acquire one along the way.

Ann sat up as Chase approached them.

"It took a while, but we stopped the bleeding. He lost a lot of blood, and we're transfusing him. Provided he doesn't start bleeding again, he should be okay. He's going to be in the ICU for a couple of days, just to be safe. He's in recovery now, and we'll take you to his room once we get him settled."

Chase kissed Danielle on the cheek and he squeezed Ann's hand.

"See, he's going to be okay, Annie," Danielle reassured her after Chase left.

Ann had been so concerned about what was happening, she hadn't really had the chance to think. Now that the immediate crisis was over, she was working her mind around what Chase had told her. He seemed to think, and she had no reason to doubt him, that House's use of alcohol combined with the ibuprofen he was constantly taking had caused his stomach to give out.

Ann's first inclination was to feel guilty. If she wasn't traveling so much, they would have been having more sex, which would have helped with his physical pain and he wouldn't have been so terribly lonely, which would have prevented the emotional pain. And then maybe he wouldn't have been drinking so much.

After she thought about it for a while, she realized that was a contributing factor, but it wasn't the whole story. In fact, it wasn't even the main cause. If he had been on the appropriate medication for his pain, none of this would have happened.

It was bad enough he'd been denied effective pain medication for so long. But, at least after he went to Shankar, there should have been some changes. Ann knew they had seen him January 16, and Cuddy had the letter requesting changes to House's meds by the third week of January. Here it was the third week of March, two full months later, and nothing had been done. The first set of paperwork had been "lost" and the second set must have been received, but Cuddy hadn't even talked to House about it yet, let alone brought it before the Board.

Ann's anger continued to grow as she realized how seriously Cuddy's devious actions and delay tactics had hurt House. She didn't know if Cuddy was just being vindictive for the sake of it, or if Cuddy somehow thought this was a way to manipulate House, or both, but it really didn't matter - the result was that House had been seriously hurt.

Ann pushed all that aside for now. She needed to put all her energy on Greg, and she didn't want to be distracted by Cuddy's games. There would be an accounting later, and, if Ann had any say about it, a rather nasty one at that.

Chase came back to show Ann to House's room, and since Danielle wasn't immediate family and couldn't go in, she went to the cafeteria to wait for Chase. She told Ann to call her and let her know what she wanted to eat, so Danielle could bring it to her. Ann didn't think she had any appetite at all, but she promised Danielle she would let her know.

Ann was in for a shock when she finally saw House. He was intubated. He looked so pale and he was shivering. She was told that both his pallor and the shaking were to be expected between the trauma of the event, the surgery and the blood loss. Ann saw all kinds of tubes and wires snaking around him. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him and hold him in her arms, but that didn't seem possible, at least right now.

Chase came in to check on him.

"Short straw," Chase informed her as he examined the lines and perused the chart, "I got the night shift."

Ann suspected there was more to it than that. She knew he cared about House, and more than just a devoted employee would. It wasn't the time to call him on it, though.

"I assume you're staying the night, too," Chase guessed. "I'll get you one of the lounge chairs from OB/GYN."

"Why don't you get two?" Ann asked softly.

"Okay," Chase agreed.

Before long, two reclining chairs had been wheeled into House's room.

"It probably makes no sense for me to have this," Ann stated as she eased herself into the chair. "It's not like I'm going to sleep tonight."

"Well, he's sedated from surgery and we won't even try to wake him up until tomorrow afternoon, so I you wanted to leave, it would be okay."

"And go where, exactly? Home, where everything reminds me of him? That new bar downtown that everyone's talking about? Oh, that's right, I can't drink! That trendy new restaurant? I don't think I can keep food down, but what the heck!"

"Sorry . . . "

Ann paused and looked down. "No, I'm sorry. I'm so angry about this and you happened to be in the room. This isn't your fault and I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Well, I could have noticed something earlier if I'd been more observant. Maybe I could have done something before this happened."

"Yeah, it's not like he ever hides his pain or his health problems from anyone, right? And he's never refused help from anyone, either, has he?"

Chase's lip curled into an ironic smile. "True. Still . . . "

"You know, if he were awake, he'd be mocking you and your Catholic guilt."

"I know. There's nothing I can do about it now, anyway. We just have to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"I know and we will. "

"How?"

"I think he should tell you."

"I'm his physician - I have the right and the need to know."

"And I have no doubt you'll find out soon enough. I just don't want to be the one to tell you. I don't want to betray any confidences."

Chase didn't know how much Ann knew about Stacy and House's leg surgery. Even if she only knew the basics, she'd have a pretty good idea of how betrayed House felt. Yeah, maybe it was a good idea that Chase find out what was going on through medical channels, instead.

"I'm going to go check on some things, and I'll be back in an hour or so. If anything happens, the nurses will page me, okay?"

"Okay."

Chase gave Ann's shoulder a squeeze and he headed out of the room.

After he left, Ann decided to do something. She didn't think House would disapprove. She was going to need some help dealing with the aftermath of this situation. While she liked Chase personally and had no reason to think he wasn't a good doctor, what she wanted would be more likely to happen if the people she enlisted didn't work for Doctor Cuddy.

Ann went to the wardrobe that contained House's clothes. She found the bag that had the contents of his pockets and fished out his i-phone. She scrolled through the numbers and found the one she was looking for.

"Hello, Doctor Nolan? I'm sorry to contact you so late at home, but this is very important. My name is Ann Mueller . . . yes, I am . . . something's happened to Greg . . . "


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, etc.

When Chase returned he brought Danielle and Danielle brought Ann a turkey sandwich from the hospital cafeteria. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but Danielle figured it was bland but nourishing, and something that Ann could keep down. Ann ate half of it under protest and saved the rest for later.

Since Danielle couldn't stay in the room, she decided to go home. She told Ann she'd get her some changes of clothes, toiletries and Ann's laptop. Ann could shower at the hospital and then do some work in the morning, at least until House came off sedation. Danielle kissed and hugged Ann goodbye and headed out.

Chase walked Danielle to the elevator and when he returned to the room, he was carrying pillows and blankets for both of them. He was going to be checking on House all night, so he was pretty sure he wouldn't get much sleep, but he hoped that Ann would at least try to get some rest. Knowing House, this wasn't going to be easy, and she would need to keep up her strength.

House survived the night without any medical crises, so Chase did get a little sleep. When he got up every couple of hours, Ann was awake and dozing. So, she wasn't really getting much rest. She was really frightened, and Chase wanted to make her feel less anxious, but he wasn't sure how.

As far as health crises were concerned, this certainly wasn't the worst that House had gone through, what with the infarction, the shooting, the electrocution, the heart attack and seizure from the DBS and his mental breakdown. However, Chase didn't think telling all that to Ann was particularly reassuring, especially since he didn't know what she knew about already. It wouldn't do any good to shock her with revelations from House's checkered medical history. Besides, Chase didn't want House to be pissed at him for telling Ann something House didn't want her to know.

Foreman arrived at about six a.m. to take over. Danielle brought Ann's things and took Chase home with her. Ann was going to miss having him there, but she knew he needed to get some sleep. He promised to be back when they took House off sedation.

Ann decided to shower and get some breakfast. She did feel better after the shower, but the breakfast didn't go down so well. She was so nervous and worried she just couldn't eat it, even though Brenda had come in before her shift to sit with her and keep her company.

She told Ann that House was "one tough old bastard," and that this would barely slow him down, let alone be anything serious.

Ann wasn't so sure about that, having seen House so vulnerable emotionally and physically. Then again, she supposed very few people saw either House's tenderness or his pain. He masked all of it very well. Ann already knew how precious a gift she had received simply by being let into House's emotional world. This just made her appreciate it even more.

She went back up to House's room at seven and worked on her laptop for a while. She also received e-mails from Tom and Bob asking when she wanted them to come down and help. She realized Danielle must have already e-mailed them for her. She really was lucky to have such a loving, supportive family. She wrote back to tell them she'd let them know what they could do after things settled down a bit.

Foreman came back to the room at eight to do routine checks.

"How is he?" Ann asked as he was finishing up and making notations in House's chart.

"Not bad," Foreman replied. "They were able to save most of his stomach during the surgery, so, if it holds, he should be returning more or less back to normal, although I think he probably shouldn't drink or use ibuprofen anymore. The big thing we're worried about is if the bleeding starts again. If it does, we'll have to do more extensive surgery on his stomach, and that can lead to digestive issues."

"Is the fact that he's made it this long a good sign?"

"Yes, and it will be even better as the time lengthens. If he makes it at least forty-eight hours, that will mean he's probably out of the woods."

Ann wasn't thrilled that it would be another day and a half before she could feel better about Greg's situation, but at least there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is there anything I can do to help him?"

"I'd say try to keep him as calm as possible, but, since no one controls House, I'm not sure that's useful advice."

"I'll do my best."

"Good luck."

Ann felt like the morning was dragging on. Of course, it didn't help that she got up at six. She did notice that every hour or so, a nurse from somewhere in the hospital would stop by and ask if she needed anything and give her a little pep talk. It was both sweet and slightly annoying. She was sure once Greg woke up it would stop, simply because he wouldn't tolerate it.

Taub came by at noon with lunch from a nearby deli. Ann's stomach really wasn't up for the pastrami or the corned beef, but she did manage to get down some of the chicken salad sandwich and macaroni salad.

Chase arrived back at the hospital around one. He still looked tired, Ann thought, but a little better than he had the previous evening. He must have known that the longer House went without bleeding again, the better it was, so, hopefully, he was at least a little encouraged.

The time came to get House off the sedation. He was still intubated, but they would remove that when he woke up and showed signs of breathing on his own. Ann was told he would still need a nasal cannula, simply because it would take a while for his oxygen levels to improve because of the loss of red blood cells when he was hemorrhaging.

They were done with the transfusions, at least. He had taken four units of blood, which, Foreman explained, meant they had been forced to replace almost one-third of his total blood volume. It was just another thing that made Ann furious at Cuddy. Well, once Greg was better, she'd deal with that.

They slowly cut back on the sedation. House began to come around at about three o'clock. Ann remembered that at the same time yesterday, she was thinking House would be in his office watching his soap. Of course, there were no TVs in the ICU, but it didn't matter since it was Saturday and the show wouldn't be on, anyway.

House's eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, baby," Ann said softly as she held his hand. He squeezed her fingers and Ann thought it was just about one of the best things she ever felt. She was oblivious to the looks that passed between the team on hearing her call House, "baby."

House pointed to the tube in his mouth.

"We'll take that out shortly," Foreman told him, "Provided you agree to wear a cannula. We need to keep your stats up."

House rolled his eyes.

"I take it that's a 'yes,' " Foreman stated. He took the tape off the intubation tube. "You know the drill, House. On the count of three. One, two, three."

House breathed out while Foreman pulled out the tube. House coughed.

"Will that hurt his stomach?" Ann asked worriedly.

"It should be okay, but let's see if we can quiet him down," Taub responded. He got a glass of water and put the straw near House's mouth.

House drank a few sips and shooed the cup away.

"What the hell happened?" he croaked.

"You were in the clinic . . . " Chase told him.

"Remember that part," House snapped. "Go on."

"You collapsed and you were bleeding from your mouth," Foreman continued. "You lost enough blood that you became unconscious."

"Diagnosis," House barked hoarsely.

"Um, bleeding ulcers," Taub replied hesitantly.

There was a pause. House gave the team an angry look. "Cause?"

"Due to patient ingesting well above the recommended amounts of ibuprofen and drinking alcohol to excess," Hadley concluded.

"Interesting," House stated in a harsh whisper. "The only one with the balls to tell me doesn't have balls. Or do you?"

Ann watched as House insulted his team. Initially, she wasn't sure why he felt the need to do that. It dawned on her that the reason was he wanted to deflect attention away from his own behavior. Undoubtedly, the last thing he was willing to admit to his team was why he'd been overdoing both the analgesic and the booze. She was so glad she hadn't told Chase about the employment agreement.

"Not very exciting," House croaked again.

"That's because you weren't conscious to experience it like the rest of us," Ann interjected.

"I meant diagnostically," House responded. He began to cough again. Taub offered him more water, which House took. The coughing stopped.

"I know it's practically impossible for you to keep your opinions to yourself," Foreman stated, "But it would help to keep you from bleeding again if you didn't cough so much. So, why don't you try letting your throat calm down by keeping your mouth shut?"

House shot Foreman a positively evil look, resulting in smirks from the team. Everyone busied themselves with checks on House's current state of health, while he remained silent. When they were finished and everything was charted, they left.

"So, how much pain are you in?" Ann asked.

"The post-op drugs are pretty good," House replied, his voice sounding a little better.

"You had to have a massive hemorrhage to get some relief," Ann said softly but with almost icy anger. "What the hell kind of place is this?"

"I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question . . . "

"Listen, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"After you came out of surgery and they had you stabilized last night, I called Doctor Nolan."

"He must have been at home by then. How did you get his number?"

"It's in your cell contacts list."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you had a medical crisis, and that the reason for it was that you've been taking too much ibuprofen and drinking too much because of your leg pain."

"What did he say to that?"

"He asked whether Doctor Cuddy had talked to the Board about modifying your agreement. I said that as far as I knew, she hadn't even met with you yet, let alone gone before the Board. Was that right?"

"We haven't had the meeting."

"Heartless bitch! She ought to be hung up by her thumbs!"

"Hey, take it easy. I want you here, not off on a vendetta. What did Nolan say?"

"That he was going to contact Doctor Shankar and they were going to figure out how to get the hospital to change the agreement."

"Good luck with that."

"Well, if your almost dying doesn't make them re-think what they're doing, I guess I don't know what would persuade them . . . "

"I'm sure they won't see it that way. Just House the Addict screwing up again . . . "

"As long as you don't see it that way . . . and you don't, do you?"

"I've had some help lately seeing things through an outsider's eyes, and let's just say my being a screw-up is not my automatic go-to place anymore."

"Good."

"Did Nolan say when he was going to talk to Cuddy?"

"No. Since it's the weekend, I don't know if he'll be able to get a hold of Shankar and I'm assuming they'll have to meet first to discuss things . . . "

"I just hope something happens before I leave the hospital. It feels good to get real meds again."

"Oh, baby . . . " Ann decided she didn't care about the tubes and wires. If she didn't hold House right now, she was going to explode. She toed off her shoes, pulled back the blankets and carefully climbed in. She gingerly put her arms around him and when it seemed that nothing went off or pulled out, she drew him a little tighter against her.

"My arms . . . I can't," House said.

"Don't worry about it," Ann responded. "I'm just happy to be able to hold you. When I saw you lying on that stretcher, bleeding . . . " Ann's voice became ragged and she pulled House even closer. She buried her face in his shoulder. House was able to kiss her on the top of the head.

They stayed like that for a while until House yawned.

"You need your rest," Ann murmured as she carefully climbed out of the bed. She held his hand and stroked his face until he went to sleep.

Ann returned to her chair. She checked her phone and found a message from Nolan. She went out in the hall to listen. Shankar was away, but would be returning to New York on Sunday, and Nolan had decided to make the trip to the City for them to meet. He said that either he or Shankar would be contacting her with an update Sunday night.

House slept for most of the rest of the afternoon. He was still quite pale and cold, and he continued to shiver, but the bouts of it seemed to be lessening.

Now that the immediate crisis had past, Chase determined it was okay to relax the rules a bit and allow Danielle to be in the room for a short time. She stopped in with pizza for dinner around six.

Chase, Danielle and Ann were just about ready to grab some food when House began to stir.

"Daddy, please, no," House called out. "It's too cold and it hurts. Please, I promise I'll be good. Please don't make me . . . "

House's heart rate shot up.

"It's probably a nightmare," Chase stated as he checked House's vital signs on the monitors. "Anesthesia can mess up your sleep cycles. Let's try to wake him up."

Ann bent down, "Hey baby, it's me. You're safe. No one is trying to hurt you. Why don't you wake up now?"

"Daddy, it was an accident, I swear," House said, becoming even more agitated, "I didn't mean to break it. Please don't make me sit in the ice. Please, daddy . . . "

"C'mon, Greg," Ann begged, "It's time to wake up now. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore."

Ann was stroking his face and leaning down to kiss him. That seemed to calm him, but he still wasn't awake yet.

Chase made the attempt. "House, it's me, Chase. We're taking care of you. It's safe here. No more evil dads to hurt us."

At that, House's eyes came open. He looked around, furtively examining his surroundings.

"It's all right, baby," Ann reassured him. "We're right here with you."

"Cold," House muttered.

"I'll ask the nurses for more blankets," Danielle said, quickly leaving the room.

"Can I get in bed with him to try to warm him up?" Ann asked.

"Just be careful of all the lines," Chase told her.

Ann took off her shoes again and carefully climbed in. She gently slid her arms around House. At first, he didn't react.

Ann continued to talk to him softly. "Baby, it's me. Just try to relax, okay? I've got you and I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

House seemed to stop resisting what was being offered. He buried his head in the space between Ann's shoulder and neck. Ann's hands were gently rubbing the nape of House's neck and his lower back. She was humming softly and rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

To say Chase was surprised would be a serious understatement. The detached, aloof, hostile Gregory House was accepting kindness and comfort, almost like a tiny child. Chase had always suspected there was a human being under all that crap, but he had only seen the briefest flashes of it before now. Without thinking, Chase put his hand on the middle of House's back. "It's okay," he said softly, rubbing him ever so slightly.

He was expecting Hostile House to return at any moment. He was further astonished when he felt House relax under his touch. Chase was pretty sure he would never hear House say anything to him that involved expressing affection, but this simple reaction told Chase volumes about how House felt about him.

The nurse arrived with the blankets and put them over House and Ann. Between that and Ann's body heat, he warmed up considerably.

After a few minutes, House became more aware of his surroundings. He pulled back slightly from Ann's embrace and looked around. The nurse had left, so there were only the four of them in the room.

House remembered his nightmare quite vividly and he was pretty sure he had been talking in his sleep. Ann and Chase already knew about his father's abuse, so he didn't really reveal anything new to them. Although, depending upon what he said, the reality was always worse than just hearing "ice baths," which, ironically enough, sounded more like a spa treatment than the torment it actually was. So, Danielle was the only one who hadn't heard it before.

House looked at them. "None of this leaves the room, am I clear?"

"It won't," Ann agreed for the three of them.

"I'll respect your wishes, of course," Danielle said, "But I don't understand why you want to keep this a secret. I mean, it's not like you're the only person who ever had an abusive parent."

"I just don't want people to know, okay?" House responded, sounding slightly irritated.

"My experience is that people hide things because they are ashamed," Danielle observed. "You aren't ashamed of this, are you?"

"What if I were?" House asked defensively. "What business is it of yours?"

"It's not, I guess," Danielle admitted. "It's just that when the man my significant other loves like a father, who also happens to be love of the woman I love like a sister's life, is in pain about something, I care about it, whether I want to or not."

"I'm still coming off sedation," House noted, "So don't expect me to follow that."

"Let me put it this way," Danielle tried again, "My boyfriend and my sister both love a man who seems ashamed of something that happened a long time ago that wasn't his fault. Because I care so much about them, I care about him, and I don't want him to feel shame about something that he couldn't help. On the other hand, if he wants to be mad as hell about it, good for him."

House smiled slightly. "I get why you two are so close," he said to Ann. "Hey, what's that smell?"

"We got a pizza," Ann told him.

"Sounds great," House responded.

"Sorry, not for you," Chase informed him. "At least not yet."

"Get your hand the hell off my back," House grumbled.

"Okay," Chase said, but he gave House a quick rub before he moved his hand. Surprisingly, House didn't protest.

An aide appeared with House's dinner, which consisted of broth and Jell-o. Ann climbed carefully out of the bed, so House could eat.

"This isn't fair," House whined. "You get pizza and I get this garbage."

"Considering what happened, you're lucky we didn't keep you on just the IV for another day," Chase informed him.

"Yes, I just feel _so_ blessed," House stated in his most sarcastic voice.

"I do," Ann said softly. She gave House several tender kisses on his lips and face.

"Not in front of the children, dear," House told her after she had finished.

"It's okay," Danielle interjected. "Robert needs to see it and get used to it."

"_Danielle_," Chase cautioned.

"What?" House asked in his most gleeful voice. "PDAs upset the wombat? In that case, kiss me again, Annie!"

"Thanks," Chase muttered to Danielle, looking daggers at her.

"I'm not sure I'm going to do that," Ann stated. "I really don't want our displays of affection to be used to upset someone else."

"You're no fun," House responded. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind our PDAs at the Christmas party."

"That wasn't intended to bother people," Ann clarified. "That was just how I felt at the moment."

"That was one damn long moment," House observed. "I've never heard of a 'moment' lasting a half-hour."

"I think a 'moment' is defined as an indeterminate length of time."

"It's a short indeterminate length of time."

"What's a half-hour compared to the vastness of the space-time continuum?"

"You're trying to win me over with an astrophysical argument?"

"It was worth a shot. Anyway, the length of time isn't the issue. It's the part about upsetting someone."

"That PDA at the party upset plenty of people, as you know."

"Yes, but that wasn't our _intention_."

"Speak for yourself."

"You _wanted_ to upset people? You weren't doing it because you enjoyed kissing and fondling me - you did it to get people riled up?"

"I always enjoy kissing you and feeling you up."

"But that wasn't the main reason you were doing it."

"It wasn't the main reason you were doing it, either. You wanted to distract me from the fact that I couldn't stand the entire time. You wanted me to forget I'm a cripple."

"First of all, it would be stupid for me to think that you could ever forget that. And, I'm not stupid. Second, I didn't want to distract you from it, I wanted other people not to think about it. I wanted then to envy you, being with a woman who obviously wanted you that much."

"Do you want me that much?"

"You mean to tell me you don't know that by now? You think I slept badly in this crappy chair all night because I don't want you? You think I called my boss to rearrange my career so I could be with you because I don't want you?"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"That's precisely the point! You didn't ask me, I _wanted_ to! Why do you think I want to get pregnant? Because the nausea and the backaches and the stretch marks will be fun? It's because, if something happens to you . . . I'll still have . . . something of you in my life. I don't want to have _a_ baby - I want to have _your_ baby!"

Ann was suddenly overcome by all the emotions she was aware she was feeling, plus all the emotion she had felt over the past day – the fear, the uncertainty, and the anger. The fatigue wasn't helping anything, either. Uncharacteristically, she burst into tears.

"Crap," House stated. "Listen, I'm sorry . . . "

"Shut up!" Ann hiccupped. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so pissed off I could scream. I could have lost you, and for no other reason than your boss is being a bitch!"

"This isn't going to help anything."

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry for yelling at you. You didn't deserve that."

"Well, I could have done more to push the issue with Cuddy. I could have . . . "

"Stop it! I don't want you to take one iota of blame for this, do you understand? That woman is cruel and she's the one responsible for this, not anyone else!"

House had no reaction to that declaration, and Ann's anger seemed to have run its course, at least in that moment. It took them a minute to realize something.

"When did Chase and his squeeze leave the room?" House questioned.

"I was so into my 'discussion' with you, I didn't notice," Ann replied.

"Do you think they heard the part about us, you know, trying?"

"That's probably what sent them running. You didn't hear any screaming, did you?"

"No. But I know what you mean. My spawn . . . "

"Not you! All that brilliance and good looks and musical talent. And beautiful blue eyes. I was talking about me."

"Not you. Beauty and brains and bottomless green eyes. And an ability to love really screwed-up people."

"I've never loved a really screwed-up person. I've only ever loved you."

House looked intently into her eyes. If both his arms weren't full of IV's, he would have reached up and pulled her against him. He took her hand in his. "Hey, shouldn't you eat something before it gets cold?"

"Too late for that," Ann observed as she opened up the pizza box. "It's okay. I like cold pizza. Wow, we must have been really deep into our, um, conversation."

"Why do you say that?"

"Chase and Danielle not only left without us noticing, they grabbed a few slices on the way out.

"Chase has some mad stealth skills. I taught him that."

"You must be proud."

Ann sat down on the bed and ate her pizza while House noisily slurped up his broth and Jell-o. A comfortable silence fell between them.

Chase and Danielle returned in about an hour.

They chatted briefly and House started to look really sleepy.

They wheeled the lounge chairs out of the room. Chase didn't stay for the night, although he asked the nursing staff to be called in if anything happened. Ann asked for a bed to be wheeled in. She told the nurses it was because she couldn't sleep in the chair, and, since Chase okayed it, no one asked any further questions. Once they were alone, Ann closed the blinds and lowered the bedrails between the two beds and pushed them together. It certainly wasn't like sleeping together in their bed at home, but it would have to do for now.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: If you're either a Huddy or a Cuddy lover, this chapter probably won't make you happy. So, you've been warned.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, etc.

Ann woke up first on Sunday morning. House's head was resting in the space between her neck and her shoulder, which was about as much cuddling as all the stuff he had attached to him would allow. She stayed where she was for a while, listening to him breathe. After everything that had happened in the last two days, it was very comforting to her just to hear that.

She wanted to kiss him so badly, but she didn't want to wake him up, so she just looked at him sleeping.

After a few minutes, House opened his eyes. "That stare is a little creepy, you know," he informed her.

Ann didn't respond, but reached over and gave him a long, slow, intensely passionate kiss.

A very slight smile came across House's face.

"What?" Ann asked.

"It's too bad Chase wasn't here to see that . . . "

"_Greg_."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"I know."

He nestled into the spot he was before. "I'll have to ask him or Foreman or whoever shows up when I can get this stuff out of my arms. I want to be able to hold you again."

"I miss it, but, no rush."

"Not in a hurry, eh? Is that because of my overwhelming stench?"

"Well, I meant that I want to make sure you're okay health-wise to remove the IVs, but, now that you mention it, you aren't smelling the way I would like . . . "

"I didn't think I was _that_ rank."

"It's not that. It's the disinfectant hospital smell."

"Seriously? You're sure it isn't b.o. plenty?"

"I suppose I shouldn't admit this, because it will give you an excuse to never shower again, but I like the way you smell when you're a little bit, um, ripe. Not the 'five days past a bath when it's ninety degrees and the A/C is broken,' odor, but the 'warm day on your motorcycle, sweaty, leathery, musky' smell is pretty hot."

"You know I like the way you taste when you're a little gamey."

"Yeah. Speaking of that, I should probably go for a shower soon."

"Wave _that_ in my face. Then, you're probably going for the gourmet brunch buffet at Tavern on the Green."

"Too expensive. And, they're closed."

"Details."

"I can eat my breakfast elsewhere if it bothers you."

House remembered seeing Ann just pick at the pizza last night. He knew she was stressed out about what had happened, but he didn't want her to get sick. He told himself it was because he was a selfish bastard and wanted her to take care of him. And, logically, if they were trying to get pregnant, she would need to be healthy. Of course, the real reason was that he just couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to her.

"As long as you eat something. I don't want you to lose weight and get skinny. I like those tits and that ass just the way they are."

"I've got a long way to go to get skinny. Do you want to get washed up?"

"You mean a sponge bath? There's this cute nursing student that's been coming in and out of the room. Her name is Isabelle, I think. I bet she'd do it for me . . . "

"No way am I competing with some hot twenty-something! You want a sponge bath, you get it from me, _only_."

"There's no competition when it comes to you, Annie."

Ann noticed House had lost the teasing tone in his voice. She looked into his eyes and saw he was serious. Another thought jumped into her head at the same time. "This whole discussion about ripeness, guilting me because you can't eat a decent breakfast, and pretty, young nursing students was just a way to con a sponge bath out of me, wasn't it?"

"Yep," House answered with a devilish grin. "Except for the part about you being the only one."

Ann saw the seriousness in his eyes again. She leaned in for another passionate kiss.

When House's breakfast tray, consisting of yet more broth and Jell-o, was brought in, Ann left for her shower and breakfast. She texted Danielle on the way to the showers and asked for her to bring some of Greg's favorite shower gel and shampoo, as well as another change of clothes for her. When she arrived back at the room forty-five minutes later, Chase and Danielle were there with the things she had requested. House and Chase were having a 'discussion' about when the lines could be removed.

"You know as well as I do, House, that forty-eight hours is the minimum," Chase reminded him.

"So, tonight, then?"

"Well, we'll have to keep the IV that's delivering the pain meds in until we figure out how we're going to handle that. And everything else is dependent upon your stats."

"That's not a definitive answer."

"That would be correct."

"Can I at least remove the cannula?"

"Well, your O2 stats are good, so, yes. See? I can be reasonable."

Ann could tell that House was about to let loose with a barrage of sarcasm. So, she pulled out his shower gel.

"I think it's time for your sponge bath."

"And that's our cue to leave," Chase stated.

"Don't think I don't know that I'm being misdirected here," House exclaimed as Chase and Danielle exited the room. Ann closed the blinds, grabbed some towels and a washcloth and then helped House move his IV pole so he could get into the chair next to the sink.

* * *

Lucas had complained when Cuddy left for the hospital that Sunday, but she ignored him. She found he was much was easier to deal with when she paid no attention to him. She knew it wasn't the healthiest thing for the relationship, but she was almost past caring about that.

She should have listened to those tiny warning bells going off in her head when she started things with him over a year and half ago. It was too late now. She was committed to the relationship (well, at least publicly), if not to him, and Rachael had become attached to him.

She wondered how different things would have been if she hadn't let her ego be stroked by the cute, simple, harmless young guy she thought he was then and hadn't let him into her life. There had been some okay times. Despite his reputation, he could be good in bed. Well, maybe 'good' was too strong a word – he had certainly been adequate on several occasions. And he could make her laugh. Again, maybe making her laugh was putting it a little too strongly – he could amuse her. And Cuddy didn't mind having a warm body in her bed at night after all those years of celibacy she had been forced to endure (when Lucas wasn't on a stakeout, that is).

But, what if she had waited for House? She knew he wanted her, because he had told her his delusion. She definitely found that hot, even with all the chaos that was going on at the time. But, after he left for Mayfield, she decided it couldn't work. She just couldn't bring a crazy, drug-addicted person into her daughter's life.

At least that's what she told herself at the time. Thinking back on it now, the truth was that she loved House, or thought she did, but she was just tired. It had been years of back and forth, sexual tension, and trying to get him to commit to her. And when he went away to the mental hospital, she found she was able to breathe for the first time in a long time. She missed House, of course, but she wasn't sure that he would be coming back. And she was pretty sure that if he did come back, he would be different. All that uncertainty plus Lucas's masterful flattery had pulled her away.

Well, he did come back - clean, sober and still House. And he let her know that he wanted her. But, her pride at that point wouldn't let her admit her mistake in choosing Lucas, so she dug in. She denied she ever had any feelings for House, and she and Lucas did everything they could to humiliate him and drive him away. (She learned about the stuff Lucas had done at Wilson's apartment and the tripping incident because Lucas had been stupid enough to trip House at the hospital and brag about the other things in front of witnesses. He could be such an idiot sometimes.)

She had assumed House would fall off the wagon at some point, and then she'd have to figure out some way to deal with it, at least at the hospital. He was still her best, most famous doctor who brought in the most donations, so it was worth some effort on her part to keep him. Besides, it would remind him again how much he owed her, and that was never a bad thing from Cuddy's perspective.

Well, almost a whole year went by and he didn't take any drugs. It was becoming clear to Cuddy that maybe House didn't need her any more, at least to bail him out of his substance abuse problems. Since she and Lucas had done such an effective job of pushing House away, and since Lucas was still in the picture, Cuddy could hardly dangle herself as the sexual carrot in front of House, the way she used to.

So, in order to keep him under her influence, she tried a different tack and made an overture of friendship, hoping to exploit his loneliness since Wilson had started seeing Sam. She had to admit she was surprised when he'd said the last thing he wanted was to be friends with her. A part of her secretly hoped it meant that he wanted more than friendship. Cuddy was quickly disabused of that notion when House took up with the computer consultant.

And of all the people he could have chosen, it had to be Ann Mueller. She was an independent contractor, for one thing, and that meant she didn't work for Cuddy, so there was no intimidation factor.

She was younger than Cuddy, which always made Cuddy feel insecure, even more so now that people were making all those "cougar" comments behind her back about her relationship with Lucas.

Ann had no problem confronting Cuddy – in fact, she seemed to relish conflict, and could easily go toe-to-toe with her.

There was another thing. Cuddy had had body issues since she was a teenager. She had been a bit chubby, and she lost a lot of weight in her junior year of high school. In college, she discovered running helped her maintain her weight, but that took time. Just before she graduated, she decided to become a vegetarian. She kept her weight down from then on, even if she didn't have much of a chance to exercise, like when she was an intern and a resident.

Of course, none of that appeased her mother. Cuddy's mom was constantly telling her she was too thin, and that she had lost all her shape. Cuddy loved her father, and he had said many times that his ideal woman was Marilyn Monroe. Cuddy's body was such that she could be either fat or thin. It was impossible for to achieve the body type she really wanted – curvaceous, but not heavy. So, it had actually been good for Cuddy's ego to hear House make comments about her cleavage (such as she had any, enhanced by whatever bra she was wearing), and her "ginormous" ass.

Now that House was with Ann, he never made comments about Cuddy's body any more. (Of course, Cuddy didn't want to admit to herself that her behavior toward House had anything to do with his lack of interest.) To add insult to injury, Ann actually had the kind of body House always said he liked – genuinely large breasts, a small waist and a truly big behind. All of this combined to make Cuddy feel attention-deprived and unsure of herself.

And now this. She received the first set of letters from Nolan and Shankar in January. Cuddy had been having trouble with the insurance company again, and she hadn't done quite as well negotiating the reimbursement rate as she had the previous year. After the negative reaction she had received from the Board, there was no way she was going to bring up House and his issues. So, the letters the two doctors had sent "fell" into her shredder one night after hours. She knew that was only buying herself some time. The next set of letters would inevitably arrive in short order.

Cuddy was surprised that House had agreed to go to a pain management specialist in the first place. Cuddy had no proof, of course, but she believed Ann had something to do with it. It was another example, Cuddy was convinced, of this woman's pernicious influence.

This further angered Cuddy. This woman had not only taken away an important lever Cuddy had on House's behavior by sending him elsewhere for pain management, she had managed to put Cuddy right in the middle, forcing Cuddy to expend political capital with the Board, when it was already in short supply.

By the time Cuddy got the second set of letters, and she had to sign that she had received them, she dug in once again and decided not to do anything. Or, rather, she had decided to avoid dealing with it as long as she could. Unfortunately, House getting sick had forced her hand, and now she was in a place she hated to be, namely, being reactive. Cuddy was already worried for her job, and this was going to be a serious problem, especially if lawyers were involved.

Cuddy saw a way out. Maybe it was possible to manipulate House somehow by promising him the drugs Shankar recommended. There was still the issue of the drug tests in his employment agreement, but something could be done about that, Cuddy was sure. Hell, she wasn't above using her own bodily fluids, if need be.

With the thought of preserving her career foremost in her mind, Cuddy headed toward House's room in the ICU. It was early afternoon on Sunday, and, as Cuddy already knew, the hospital corridors were full of visitors, but very few staff members. The fewer hospital employees that saw her, the better.

The ICU was also happened to be empty, except for House, so there was only one nurse monitoring the equipment. Cuddy waited until the nurse got a phone call and slipped quietly past to House's room. She was surprised to see the blinds down, but knowing House's excessive desire for privacy, he had probably insisted on it. At least it would mean once she got into the room she would not to be noticed.

Cuddy was further surprised when she quietly entered the room. The window blinds were also drawn, and only the small florescent lights above the bed and above the sink were on. She stood in the deep shadows by the door and watched the scene before her in astonished silence.

"Close your eyes," Ann told House.

He complied and she began to wet his hair by filling a cup with water and pouring it over his head.

"How bad is it?" House asked.

"It's a little oily; not too bad," Ann replied.

"I didn't mean that. I meant the baldness."

"First of all, you're not bald. Second, so what if you were?"

"You mean that wouldn't bother you?"

"Nope. As Deidre is fond of reminding Bob, guys with a lot of hair are light in testosterone."

"Poor bastard."

Ann had poured some of the shampoo in her hand and began to rub it into House's hair. Once she had some lather, she continued, giving him a scalp massage.

House's eyes were closed and his head was lolling back. Ann couldn't help but smile.

She then rinsed out his hair, using the cup again.

"Do you want to get cleaned up in the chair or the bed?" Ann inquired as she toweled dry his hair.

"I think the chair is easier," House answered.

Ann carefully removed House's hospital gown, over his IV sites and lines. Since he wasn't wearing underwear, he was completely naked at this point.

"Beautiful," Ann sighed as she ran her hands along the outside of his thighs and up the sides of his torso. "Just beautiful."

"Hey, if you do a good job with the bath, I'll let you jump my bones afterward."

"You're too good to me."

Ann got the washcloth wet and put some shower gel on it. "Time to get rid of all that yucky hospital odor and have you smell like my Greg again."

Ann started with his feet. She washed the tops and bottoms and between his toes. She rinsed, and when she was done, she noisily kissed the bottom of each foot. Little Greg responded by starting to stiffen.

"That's my boy," Ann said with a smile.

She proceeded to wash his legs and hips and around his butt, rinsing as she went. She went up his abdomen, his chest and his armpits. She skipped most of his arms because they still had IVs in them that she didn't want to get wet. She washed his hands.

"You don't have to do that," House informed her.

"I like any excuse to touch your hands," Ann responded. "You know that."

Ann washed his neck and face.

"Lean forward," she instructed him. She held him in her arms as she carefully and very slowly washed his back.

"No human being should have a back this exquisite," she murmured softly.

House's chin was resting in the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. His eyes were closed, and there was a look of sheer bliss on his face. "Annie," he whispered.

She lingered for a few moments, taking a little more time than she really needed to thoroughly rinse his back.

"One last thing," she said softly. She got down on her knees and gently pushed his legs apart.

"Someone's excited," Ann smiled at House's growing erection as she began to use the soapy washcloth, gently washing House's perineum and his balls. Once again, she lingered as she rinsed.

"Get on with it," House grunted, his need becoming more and more, well, obvious.

Ann reached for a small amount of shower gel and quickly worked it into the washcloth. She began to move it slowly up and down House's near-fully erect penis. He groaned softly.

After several strokes, House was straining. Ann took the end of House's penis and gently pulled back his foreskin. She lightly ran the washcloth over the exposed tip. House moaned.

"I know, baby," she said. She quickly rinsed off everywhere there was soap. She also got her pants and panties off in record time. She carefully climbed on House's lap. At this point in their relationship, she knew exactly how to avoid putting any weight on House's leg, while not drawing attention to it and spoiling the mood.

House's cock waited at her entrance. She eased herself down, shuddering with delight at the initial penetration. She continued to whimper with satisfaction as House filled her. She began to move slowly up and down on his cock, grinding her hips as she went. She knew she'd have to do all the work, given House's weakened state. Not that she minded, of course. It made the experience all the more enjoyable knowing she could gratify him so completely. As Ann worked her magic, they both began to grunt with pleasure.

Cuddy had been watching since before Ann started washing House's hair. She had gone from determination to curiosity to the most intense jealously she had ever felt. She knew she had to leave now, while they were distracted, or she would be discovered.

She slipped silently out the door of the room, lucking out that the ICU nurse was on another call and didn't see her. She headed downstairs to her office, closed the blinds and locked the door. She sat heavily on the couch.

All thoughts of manipulating House into helping her had flown out of her mind. Waves of jealously passed over her. She was envious of Ann and her obvious closeness to House. Cuddy knew there was no way House would ever have let her get that intimate with him. It wasn't just the sex, it was all the touching and the way House looked both completely relaxed and totally aroused. If Cuddy harbored any doubts whatsoever that House was deeply in love with Ann, the look of sheer bliss on his face while Ann washed his back eliminated them, even before Ann climbed on his lap.

And, as jealous as Cuddy was of Ann, she found herself feeling even more envious of House. His relationship with Ann was not just sexual. House and Ann loved each other intensely - they were close emotionally and physically. It was the kind of relationship Cuddy had always craved but never achieved, certainly not with Lucas.

Cuddy was not only jealous, she was indignant. Why was House, an addict, a screw-up, out-of-control and, yes, a major prick, allowed to be happy? Cuddy had spent her whole life being sober, focused, and decent to others (at least to their faces), and, yet, happiness had eluded her. He was a bad boy and he was being rewarded, and she was a good girl and she hadn't gotten what she wanted. It was just unfair.

Cuddy's cell rang. She checked and it was Lucas. Just terrific. He'd called, no doubt, to find out what was taking so long. The worst part was that if she didn't get a handle on her emotions immediately, Lucas would be able to tell she was upset and he would drive her crazy trying to get her to tell him why.

So, when the landline on her desk rang a moment later, she was more than happy to let her cell go into voicemail and go to her desk to get the call. Or so she thought . . .

* * *

A/N: I know this is a House/OC story, so I hope there wasn't too much Cuddy in this chapter. I wanted to give a little of her POV so her actions will at least be somewhat explicable. Also, I think the Cuddy in this AU is different from the Cuddy in canon (not that canon Cuddy hasn't been all over the place since season four), so I thought it was worthwhile to explore her thinking on things.

Also, I know it's probably unrealistic to have House be getting into the lovin' less than forty-eight hours after a serious health crisis, but putting this scene into the timeline here fit better with the story than any other scenario I could think of. Besides, I'm not the one who had House crawling around a rubble-filled building, almost collapsing in pain when he got back to the hospital and then a mere few hours later lifting and carrying his lover to bed, for pity's sake! (Which, I never imagined he could do when he was well-rested and taking Vicodin.) And, my House is on real pain meds (not ibuprofen and Cuddy-lerve), and Ann did most of the work. Anyway, I beg your indulgence on this plot point and I hoped you liked the smut and the Cuddy comeuppance in any case.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

After they finished their encounter, Ann helped a very tired but a very satisfied House into a clean hospital gown. She asked the nurse to send housekeeping to change the sheets. After that, she got him back to bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Ann worked on her laptop. Chase returned. He checked House and charted his results. Ann signaled to him that she would accompany him as he left.

"Where's Danielle?" Ann asked once they were out of the room.

"I sent her home," Chase replied. "I know this has been exhausting for you, but it hasn't been easy for her, either. She's worried about you."

"I know. I don't want her to be concerned."

"She can't help it. She loves you."

"Well, you could make things better."

"Hey, I'm trying to take care of House."

"And I appreciate it very much, but that's not what I meant."

"What should I be doing, then?"

"You could be more of a . . . _diversion_. You know, keep her engaged in, um, some _enjoyable_ activities, like you usually do."

"You think we go at it like rabbits, don't you?"

"From what she's disclosed to me, you're pretty, um, active."

A smirk formed on Chase's lips. "Let's just say we're young and healthy, we enjoy being with each other, and let it go at that."

"So, go home and _divert_ her for a while, will you?"

Chase left and Ann was heading back to the room when her cell began to vibrate.

She answered the phone and found out it was Doctor Shankar. She asked him to hold.

She told the on-duty nurse that she would be away for a few minutes in the lounge and to come and get her if anything happened.

After she was alone and in a chair in the sitting area, she resumed the conversation.

"Ms. Mueller, first, let me just say there is only one word for what happened to Doctor House and that is appalling. Doctor Nolan and I met and we decided that we needed to see Doctor Cuddy immediately. We called her and attempted to get a meeting with her tomorrow. She was adamant that she had to prepare, so we gave her one day and insisted on Tuesday morning at ten."

"And she agreed to that?"

"When the gravity of the situation was explained to her, yes."

"You know that Greg is doing pretty well, don't you?"

"Yes, and that is excellent news. And, given the statement I just made, I certainly don't mean to minimize the seriousness of what happened to Doctor House, but, when I said 'gravity,' I wasn't referring to his medical condition."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I meant the legal situation that the hospital and Doctor Cuddy could find themselves in."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm fairly certain the hospital attorneys will be present at the meeting, if Doctor Cuddy is even the least bit competent."

"Well, that remains to be seen. So, we should get a lawyer, then?"

"I hope you won't mind, but I have taken the liberty of contacting an attorney that many of my patients have used in similar cases."

"This comes up that often?"

"Sadly, yes. The attorney's name is Sheldon Ginsberg, and quite frankly, when I contacted him, I was certain he would recommend an associate in his firm, since he is quite a busy man. Apparently, this case is interesting enough that he wanted to get involved himself. Of course, you will need to contact him yourself and let him know you would like him to be present at the meeting, since Doctor House would be the actual plaintiff in any lawsuit."

"Wow."

"He also informed me that, in addition to any violations of Labor Law, there may be civil penalties under the Americans with Disabilities Act."

"Can I have his phone number, please?"

"I am providing you with his home number. He said he would be available the entire evening and that he looked forward to hearing from you."

Shankar proceeded to give Ann the number. She saved it in her phone contacts list.

"Well, I have to prepare for the meeting Tuesday," Shankar told her.

"One last thing. When did you send the second set of paperwork, and did you ever get a return receipt?"

"I sent the second copy of my report and letter at the end of the first week in February, and the return receipt shows it was received at the end of the second week of the same month. Doctor Nolan has similar dates for his second letter."

"And here it is the third week of March, and nothing's been done . . . "

"As I said before, simply appalling. I'll see you on Tuesday, then?"

"Either Greg and me, if he's able to attend the meeting, or, if not, then I'll have to go in his place."

"Very good."

They hung up and Ann returned to the room. House was awake.

"Where were you?" House inquired.

"I took a phone call from Doctor Shankar," Ann answered.

"What did he say?"

"That he was appalled by what happened to you and that he and Nolan were going to meet with Cuddy on Tuesday morning."

"Shit. A meeting about me that I probably won't be able to go to. The damage has already been done, what's the damn rush?"

"Medically, I think you need to be on the new pain management regimen Shankar recommended, probably before you leave the hospital, so they need to see Cuddy and get her to talk to the Board."

"Medically? There are other reasons they need to see her?"

"Shankar says there are legal issues. He said he imagined Cuddy would have the hospital attorneys at the meeting. He gave me the name of an attorney that has represented many of his other patients in cases like this."

There was a pause as Ann waited for House to process this. "So, he's saying we should contact this attorney?"

"He seemed to think it was a good idea. And he's already called the attorney to let him know we might be getting in touch with him."

"Did he tell you what the attorney said?"

"Just that Doctor Shankar assumed it was a good case because the attorney was willing to attend the meeting himself rather than send an associate. Oh, and that the lawyer had said something about violations of Labor Law and possible fines under the Americans with Disabilities Act."

There was another rather lengthy pause as House seemed to be thinking.

"Since Doctor Shankar couldn't engage the attorney for us, he said we'd have to contact him. Do you want me to do that?"

"I don't know . . . "

It was Ann's turn to be silent for a while.

"Greg, you know what's best for you, and I certainly don't want to push you into anything. But, some terrible things have been done to you here, and for no reason I can see other than spite or manipulation. There need to be consequences."

"Maybe. But if I go ahead with this, I still have to work here. And even if I win, I still have to come here every day. I'm . . . "

"Scared?"

"Not so much afraid as thinking that now that my personal life is finally good, I don't want to make my work life a living hell."

"I guess I'd say it's not exactly Nirvana right now. And remember what I said? You don't have to stay here."

"If I sue, I don't think anyone else will want to hire me."

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that people who challenge their employers don't pay a price, even if they shouldn't. But, remember what we talked about before? We don't have to stay here in Princeton, or here in New Jersey, or even here in the U.S."

"Yeah, but Google is international."

"True, but I'm sure if a potential employer was informed about what actually happened, they'd realize you weren't the one at fault - this hospital, and the person who runs it, are to blame."

"Not everyone is as fair as you are, Annie."

"Well, even if you couldn't get a job, I can always support us. Hey, you could stay home and raise our child."

"Yeah, because changing poopy diapers and wiping up drool and vomit is soo much a way to engage the higher portions of my brain."

"If it's our kid, he or she will be a challenge, I have no doubt."

"Speaking of a kid, did you have your period yet this month?"

"I'm spotting as we speak, so it's starting."

"Well, that's disappointing."

"I know. But I'll be ovulating in a couple of weeks, and, you just amply demonstrated that you were okay for physical activities, so we can plan on some more creation sex."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Yeah. Does it sound stupid?"

"Actually, it sounds pretty hot."

"Do you want me to call the lawyer?"

"I'm still not sure . . . "

"Greg, listen to me. You know I think we should go after these people because my sense of justice demands it. But, setting how I feel aside, think about this. She's gotten away with doing so many terrible things to you already. If she gets away with this, what else will she or her demented boyfriend try? Even if you don't think we should do this because it's the right thing to do, consider your safety, will you?"

"You think it's the right thing to do?"

"Without a doubt."

"Then let's do it. Call the guy."

Ann grabbed her phone and found the number in her contacts list. Once the call was made, she put it on speaker so she and House could both talk to the attorney.

"Hello," the lawyer answered his phone.

"Mr. Ginsberg?" Ann questioned.

"Yes," he replied.

"Hello, Mr. Ginsberg," Ann began. "My name is Ann Mueller and you are on speaker with Doctor Gregory House."

"First of all, call me Shel," he stated. "Second, are you in a place where we can talk confidentially?"

"I'm in my bed at the hospital in the ICU," House jumped in. "Since they aren't about to let me go very far, the only other place we could talk is the patient's lounge, and anyone can pretty much walk in there at any time. So, this is about as good as it gets right now."

"Okay," Ginsberg responded. "We'll do the best we can. I'm assuming you want me to help you?"

"Yes," Ann interjected. "Listen, we want to be upfront here. We're not looking for any money out of this. We have two things we'd like you to help us with. One is making sure that Greg's employment agreement is modified so he can take the appropriate pain medication. The second is that there have been a lot of, um, things, that have gone on in the past involving Greg and his boss. We'd like to see some consequences for what has happened in this instance."

"There are other things besides this?" Ginsberg asked with incredulity. "What, exactly?"

"I don't want to get into it now," House almost growled. "It's not relevant to this case."

"Actually, I'd like to be the judge of that," Ginsberg stated. "In law, patterns of behavior can make a case much stronger."

"It's very complicated," House informed him. "A lot of it is, um, personal."

"You're not trying to tell me that you had a sexual relationship with Doctor Cuddy and that you rejected her and she's retaliating?"

"No, we didn't have a sexual relationship," House told him. "At least not since I was in med school and she was in college, which was about twenty-five years ago."

"Did she want a personal relationship and you rebuffed her?"

"Kind of the other way around," House corrected him. He quickly added, "But I was mentally ill at the time."

"This case just gets better and better," Ginsberg chuckled to himself, even though Ann and House heard it. "Please, I want all the details."

House was reluctant to go into everything in front of Ann, let alone tell a perfect stranger over the phone, but the attorney was right – if he was going to represent House, he needed to know what was going on, including all the nasty stuff in the back of the closets.

So, House began to recount all the incidents in his relationship with Cuddy – not too much about Michigan, because that really was all personal and not relevant to the case, but starting with the infarction. He explained everything he could remember – when Cuddy hired him, Vogler, the shooting, the ketamine, Tritter, all Cuddy's attempts to have a child and his involvement with those attempts, his hiring of the new team, Amber, the bus accident, Cuddy's behavior after she returned to work from adopting Rachel, his slide into insanity and his dealings with Cuddy and Lucas after he returned. House finally finished and waited for a reaction.

There was a lengthy pause.

Ginsberg finally spoke. "Doctor House, I'm a lawyer, so it takes a lot to render me speechless. And, I have to say, 'congratulations,' because you've achieved that."

There was another break in the conversation.

"Listen," House said, "I understand how bad I look in all of this, and if you decide you don't want to take this case, I'll certainly understand."

"How badly _you_ look?" Ginsberg questioned incredulously. "Doctor House, I don't know you very well, but I'm to going assume you wouldn't waste my time and your time by making these things up. So, knowing that what you've told me is the truth, you can't honestly believe you're the one at fault here. I know you haven't exactly been a model employee, but Doctor Cuddy's reaction, as your boss, to your less-than-ideal behavior, well, let's just say that, in the thirty years I've represented clients against employers, I've never heard of anything even close to this."

"What do you mean?" Ann asked. She was guessing what Ginsberg was going to say, but she wanted him to say it to House, so it would be perfectly clear.

"I've never heard of such unprofessional behavior," Ginsberg stated with disgust in his voice. "The manipulation, the abuse, the utter lack of professional or personal boundaries, and the absence of even basic human decency. Well, let's just say that if you wanted to pursue it, there would most likely be grounds for criminal charges in addition to civil penalties. Against both Doctor Cuddy and this Lucas character."

Ann looked at House, trying to assess how he felt about the whole thing.

"I'm not ready do to anything on the criminal stuff," House asserted. "Besides, I have my own issues there. I just want to get the employment agreement changed so I can take pain meds again."

"I wouldn't be so quick to push that aside if I were you," Ginsberg stated. "The only criminal behavior you have to account for is the theft of the oxycontin."

"Isn't that, like, ten years in prison?" House asked.

"I don't do a lot of criminal law, but that sounds about right if you were to receive the maximum sentence," Ginsberg replied. "Frankly, I'd be surprised if you got anything more than probation. And, if the judge were being particularly cranky, maybe community service."

"Why?" House questioned.

"Because of the circumstances, both then and now," Ginsberg answered. "Until you took the drugs from the hospital pharmacy, Tritter basically had no case against you. That was why he had to apply so much pressure to your colleagues to try to get them roll over on you. It can easily be argued that no one helped you with either your addiction or your pain. As an aside, I guess I'm wondering why Doctor Cuddy didn't send you to a pain management specialist then. Whatever he or she would have prescribed would have been part of a treatment program, and the detective couldn't have touched you. Anyway, you were a patient in agony, and desperate, so you broke down and took the pills from the hospital pharmacy. And, as another aside, what does it say about Doctor Cuddy's policies regarding the security of controlled substances that you were able to obtain these drugs from the hospital pharmacy?"

"What about my faking re-hab?"

"You weren't faking, you simply didn't succeed the first time. Most addicts lapse several times before they are successful. Besides, even after that entire mess, there was still no one guiding you to treatment for your pain," Ginsberg noted. "And that was four and a half years ago. And now, you've been drug-free for almost two years, despite the agony that you suffer daily."

"I sound like a saint," House stated sarcastically.

"It's all about how the story is told, Doctor House."

"What about the immediate situation?" Ann questioned, pulling the discussion back. "Will we be able to get Greg some real meds to help him, do you think?"

"We should have enough ammunition to obtain that and more," Ginsberg responded. "I'd say we're looking at a minimum of a several-million dollar settlement."

"Seriously?" Ann questioned. "I've heard about these trials where there are huge settlements, and by the time the thing is adjudicated and the lawyers get their cut, no offense, there is very little left for the person who sues."

"That does happen in jury trials," Ginsberg agreed, "But I imagine this would be a negotiated settlement and never go to trial."

"They'd _want_ to give me that much money?" House asked.

"No," Ginsberg replied, "But what hospital would want the publicity that comes from being sued by one of its own doctors for making medical decisions that resulted in a significant injury to that doctor? If they ever want any funding, grants or even any new patients walking through the doors, they'd want to settle and keep things quiet."

Both House and Ann were silent.

"Listen," Ginsberg said, "I've got to review everything you told me, along with what your doctors are sending me tomorrow, so I can prepare for the meeting Tuesday morning. I can't guarantee anything, because things can come up that we don't anticipate. But I think we have an excellent case, and I'm optimistic for a very good outcome. I'll probably be calling you tomorrow for additional information as I wade through all this, okay?"

"Yes," House responded.

"Bye," Ginsberg stated as he hung up.

Ann clicked off her phone. "You know that part about how he said he was speechless? I think I know how he feels."

"Uh-huh. I'm not sure I can wrap my head around all this."

"Do you really think there could be a large settlement?"

"That seems a bit of a stretch to me, so if I were you, I wouldn't be window shopping at Tiffany's or trying on mink coats just yet."

"Yeah, 'cause that's _so_ me - Ms. Glitzy. I was thinking more along the lines of your being able to quit if you wanted to, and us living off the interest and my salary."

"Even if that were possible, I'd go insane with boredom."

"Not if you set yourself up as a medical consultant. You could handle interesting cases from all over the world."

"I'm a cripple and I can't travel very well, remember?"

"It's not like you personally see most of your patients, anyway. So why couldn't everything be sent to you electronically? We could get a house with a large den and you could convert it to an office."

"What about my team?"

"If you charged enough for your services, you could employ them yourself."

"I'm not sure how it would work, but it's an interesting idea. In any case, we're getting way ahead of ourselves here."

"I know."

There was a pause and Ann sensed that House wanted to tell her something.

"That stuff I told the attorney . . . " House hesitated, "You hadn't heard a lot of that before. Now you know how truly screwed up I am. If you wanted to get the hell away from me, I would understand."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Are you kidding? I hate it that you're not working here any more and I only get to see you in the morning and at night. If I had my choice, I'd be around you all the time. I mean, not in a stalker-ish way, but . . . "

"I feel the same way about you. That's why I stopped traveling, remember?"

"I thought that was because you thought I needed you and you were willing to sacrifice for me."

"That sounds so noble, but I'm a hell of a lot more selfish than that. I did it because I want to be with you."

"Still?"

"Always."

"Even after everything you found out today?"

"Even more after what you told me today."

"More?"

"You can't see it because you've been conditioned to think that everything bad that happens is somehow all your fault. That's not what I see. I see a person with a medical condition, chronic pain, which was left untreated to further someone else's goals. A person that was allowed, possibly encouraged, to develop a dependence on a substance because it made that person easier to manipulate."

"I don't want you to think of me as a victim. I don't want you to pity me."

"I don't think of you as a victim. You've been exploited, no doubt. But you've managed to be a productive person, working through your pain and saving lives. That's someone to be proud of, not someone to pity."

"I've done some things that aren't exactly pride-worthy."

"So, you're a flawed human being who makes mistakes? Now that you mention it, I've changed my mind. I don't want to be with you anymore because I want a perfect person instead. Oh wait, those don't exist . . . "

"If they did, would you dump my ass?"

"Of course not! Who the hell would want to be with a perfect person? It would be death by ennui. And I have no right to expect perfection in anyone else, seeing as how flawed I am myself."

"You're not flawed."

"Yes, I am seriously screwed-up, in my own charming way."

"_Pul-eeze_."

"Listen, you just told me a ton of stuff about yourself that I'm guessing you would have preferred not to. Let me tell you something about me."

"Well, this could be good."

"You remember when I was working in Lexington earlier this year?"

"Yes, and I have the carpal tunnel in my wrist from jacking off so much to prove it."

"Well, there was this guy I met – "

"So, you are dumping me!"

"Busted. I just wanted to give someone a sponge bath and a goodbye fuck because I've never done it in a hospital before. Just let me tell you this, will you?"

"Okay."

"Anyway, his name was Sean or Chad or one of those kinds of names that will sound ridiculous when he's sixty. I went to lunch in the cafeteria one of my first days there. He sat down next to me and we started talking. He was decent-looking and nice enough, I guess. It turned out I was working in his office that same afternoon. Is any of this sounding familiar?"

"Did you go out to dinner with him?"

"He asked me, but I told him that I was in a relationship. He gave me that line about not seeing a wedding ring. Which prompted me to say 'Because no one who's unmarried can commit to another person emotionally, which will be news to untold numbers of gay and lesbian couples, and no one who's married has ever cheated on his or her spouse.' "

"Which will be news to Taub."

"In any case, I kept seeing him around the hospital, or, should I say, he kept insinuating himself into whatever I was working on. I tried to get rid of him in a subtle way, but that didn't work, so the time came to pull out the big guns."

"You flashed your boobs at him? I thought you were trying to get rid of him, not attract him."

"Funny. Anyway, I was getting ready to leave one day and he sort of cornered me in the hallway. He asked me out again and I told him he needed to know something about me. I told him about the rape. Well, I wasn't even finished describing what happened and he was backing away. He couldn't get out of there fast enough."

"Well, from my selfish perspective, I glad he was a moron and left. But, explain to me how this is about how screwed up _you_ are."

"I'm damaged goods. He got away because he knew he didn't want to deal with that."

"You're flawed because he was a shallow idiot?"

"I am messed up. There are things I can't do because of what happened to me."

"You've overcome a lot of it. And, seeing as how I'm not a back door man, I don't really care about the rest."

"Don't you see? When I told him, he ran away. When I told you, you came towards me. You put your arms around me and comforted me. You made love to me."

"Of course I did. What straight man, bisexual or lesbian with a pulse wouldn't?"

"Well, he didn't, and there are plenty more like him, believe me. People who want easy, neat and undamaged."

"You are _not_ damaged. Stop saying that and stop believing it!"

"I will if you will."

There was a pause as House looked intently at Ann. He wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms, but he couldn't.

"Get over here," he commanded in a harsh, thick voice.

She climbed on the bed, slide her arms around his torso and pulled him as close as she could, burying her head in his chest. After a short time, she moved away slightly so he could hear her.

"You are definitely high maintenance, Gregory House, but you are _so_ worth it. And to love someone who loves you back from the bottom of the deepest soul you've ever encountered . . . that's . . . as close to heaven . . . as I'll ever get."

Ann moved her arms from around House and reached for his face. She stroked and kissed him, feeling the wetness on her hands and lips. She didn't notice the wetness on her own face. But House did.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, etc.

Ann got up and got a washcloth and cleaned up House's face. She was surprised when he took it from her and used it on her face, too.

Ann went to rinse out the washcloth in the sink in the room. She returned to House's bed and they cuddled for a while longer.

The dinner tray arrived with broth, Jell-o and toast. Ann proclaimed it a milestone while House complained.

Chase and Danielle, who was slightly flushed, Ann was happy to see, arrived with dinner. After everyone ate, Chase removed all the lines except the one that was needed to administer House's pain meds. They left and House and Ann got ready for bed. Ann pushed the two beds together again and they talked quietly and caressed each other before going to sleep.

Ann was glad after everything that had happened that day that they didn't have the meeting with Cuddy, Shankar, Nolan and the attorneys until Tuesday. She hoped Monday would be a bit calmer so they could recoup.

House was just happy to have the use of one of his arms back, so he could hold Ann. They slept reasonably well, considering the beds they were using.

Monday wound up being an active day, although a less emotionally intense one. House was moved from the ICU to his own room on another floor. He wasn't sure why he got a private room, but, he supposed Cuddy was beginning to realize the trouble she was in and had probably decided not to give House any more ammunition.

House knew that as wildly emotional and vindictive as Cuddy was capable of being, she also had an unerring instinct for saving her own ass. He decided that the next time he talked to his lawyer he would warn Ginsberg not to underestimate her.

Once House was settled, the rest of the day passed quietly. They did get a call from the attorney, who asked House to give more detail about some of the events House had talked about the previous day.

Foreman brought lunch for Ann. House guessed his fellows were rotating the duty, knowing that Wilson wouldn't be doing it.

A stuffed bear with balloons had been delivered and the card said it was from Wilson and Sam.

House wondered why Wilson hadn't actually come to see him, but found out from Hadley that Wilson was concerned, but, given the current state of their relationship, Wilson didn't want to just show up in case House didn't want to see him.

House felt a pang of remorse when he heard that, but then he realized that was what Wilson wanted him to feel. It was pure, old-fashioned Wilson-esque manipulation, designed to make House feel guilty about their estrangement and get House to be the one to make the first move to fix it. After House figured that out, he also decided that if Wilson was waiting for an invitation from him, hell was going to freeze over first.

Chase and Danielle brought Thai for dinner that night, and Chase slipped House some noodles from the Pad Thai. They didn't seem to bother House, and Chase told House that he was lucky to have such an-iron clad stomach. House remarked that it wasn't quite iron-clad enough.

Ann spent the night again and neither she nor House slept very well. They were thinking too much about the meeting the next day.

They managed to fall asleep at about two in the morning. They woke up about eight and Ann gave House another shampoo and sponge bath (without, to their great regret, the denouement of the previous one because there were too many people coming in and out of the room). Ann went for a shower. She arrived back at about nine, when House was eating his breakfast.

"So, how was the land of real food?" House asked.

"What?" Ann replied in confusion.

"What did you have for breakfast?"

"I didn't."

"Not good. You have to keep your strength up."

"I know. But just the thought of trying to eat something made me queasy. I'm so nervous about this meeting."

"That's understandable. But there's not much we can really do about it. What's going to happen is going to happen."

"That's very Zen of you."

"Well, as someone pointed out to me, even if this doesn't work out, I have other options. Say, how come you're all dressed up?"

"I'm not. I'm just wearing some slacks and a top. I didn't think jeans and a t-shirt would be a good look for me today."

"Yeah, Cuddy will probably be in her tightest power suit and highest heels, trying to melt the eyes of Nolan, Shankar and Ginsberg."

"That sounds kind of scary, actually."

"Just don't look directly in her eyes or you'll turn to stone."

"Thanks for the warning You're still in a hospital gown. Are you going to the meeting like that?"

"I'm going for the pathetic injured patient look. Am I there yet?"

"Or weren't you going to the meeting at all?"

"I wasn't sure. Until I remembered that you would be there. I don't want to miss the fireworks. I love a good catfight. It's really hot."

"Thanks. I'm glad I'm here to entertain you, although I think I should tell you that I don't plan to engage her. This isn't a 'you and your boyfriend are jerks and keep away from me and my loved ones' moment. There's a lot more at stake here than just telling someone to back off."

"Annie, I know you too well. She'll say something personal and it'll set you off."

"I'll be trying my damndest not to do that."

"And I bet The Evil One will be goading you, for no other reason than to take the focus off her screw-ups."

"I'm sure. Could you do me a favor? Could you keep an eye on me and give me some kind of warning if I start to look like I'm ready to go after her?"

"What kind of warning?"

"I don't know, maybe a code word?"

"That might be too obvious. How about something non-verbal?"

"Like what?"

"I could grab your boob . . . "

"Because that would be so much more subtle."

"Hey, it was worth a shot. How about a kiss?"

"After we figure out the signal."

"No, I mean a kiss as the signal."

"Well, that's not very subtle, either, but a peck on the cheek wouldn't be too bad."

"What do you mean? I was thinking of a lot of tongue . . . "

"You're always thinking of a lot of tongue."

"Like you aren't."

"Okay. A quick kiss on the lips with no tongue. That could work."

"Well, if that's all I'm going to get . . . "

"Look at it this way. If it goes badly, we'll need to console each other, and if it goes well, we'll want to celebrate."

"What if we're not sure how it's going?"

"Then we'll need a distraction to help us deal with the tension that comes from the uncertainty."

"So, I'm getting laid no matter what?"

"Pretty much."

"Cool. Help me with my pants, will you?"

Ann helped House get dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt. She would have liked him in a blazer, but they couldn't do that because of the IV. An orderly came by with a wheelchair. House wasn't thrilled with the idea of being pushed through the hospital corridors like that, but he really wasn't well enough yet to do all the walking required, and it was easier to maneuver with his IV attached to the pole on the chair rather than have to wheel a separate pole around.

It was about nine forty-five when they decided to make their way down to Cuddy's office. As they got to the anteroom outside, House saw Nolan and Shankar, and a third person, who he assumed was Ginsberg.

Ginsberg was wearing a gray, well-fitting, double-breasted suit. He was short and thick, but not overweight per se. He had jet black hair, dyed, no doubt, given his age, that was slicked back. His profile was interesting – a low, rounded forehead and receding chin, with a large, triangular shaped nose. House smiled to himself as the theme from "Jaws" popped into this head. Well, since Cuddy was a barracuda, it wouldn't hurt to have a shark on their side.

Ann pushed him through the doors. Introductions were made, along with some small talk about the traffic that morning coming from Manhattan and from Nolan's home. They weren't about to discuss anything significant with Cuddy's receptionist sitting right there.

Ten o'clock arrived and Cuddy buzzed Ms-Temporary-So-Why-Bother-Learning-Your-Name to tell her to show them in.

As they entered the room, House saw there were all four hospital attorneys, along with two board members he recognized. _So, Cuddy's trying to nip this in the bud by intimating me_, he thought. He hoped they could make up in quality what they lacked in numbers.

"Doctor Cuddy," Shankar began, "Allow me to introduce everyone. I'm Sanjay Shankar, this is Darryl Nolan, and this is Sheldon Ginsberg. I believe you all know Doctor House and Ms. Mueller."

"Why is _she_ here?" Cuddy asked, indicating Ann with some disdain. "She has no reason to attend this meeting."

"She's his Power of Attorney. She has legal standing. Let's move on," Ginsberg snapped forcefully. It was the first volley, and Ginsberg appeared to have won.

House looked at Ann. She seemed a bit peeved, but she also seemed to be determined not to respond. House admired her resolve, even as he was disappointed that she wasn't taking Cuddy down a peg. Well, they were paying Ginsberg for that, after all.

As the hospital attorneys were introduced, House realized that in spite of all the times he had met with them because he had been sued so often, he had never bothered to learn their names. Well, he wasn't about to waste the brain space now, so he decided to refer to them as Shysters One through Four. Likewise, since he rarely attended board meetings, he didn't know the board members' names, either, so they became Moneybags One and Two.

Once all that was complete, Shankar continued. "We are here today to modify Doctor House's employment agreement to allow him to take medically necessary pain medication."

"We haven't agreed to modify anything," Shyster Number Three responded. "That employment agreement is there for a reason. When Doctor House returned from Mayfield, he needed to be drug-free."

"He needed to stop using Vicodin for his pain," Shankar corrected. "He still has pain that needs to be treated in the way my report recommends."

"I've read portions of the report, and some of these drugs can be mood-altering," Shyster Number One commented. "How do we know they won't have that effect on Doctor House?"

"When administered for pain treatment, these medications do not induce changes in mood," Shankar stated. "It's only if they are used in the absence of pain or in excess that they can be problematical."

"And how do we know Doctor House won't use them to _excess_?" Shyster Number Four emphasized the last word, mocking both Shankar and House. "He has a history . . . "

Suddenly, House felt something. He glanced down and saw that Ann had unobtrusively reached through the space in the side of the wheelchair, and she had taken House's hand in hers.

He wanted to look at her face. He hesitated, dreading the pity he would see there. He should have known better by now. When he looked at her, he saw a firmly set jaw and blazing eyes. She wasn't pitying him, she was angry for the assault on his dignity and she was giving him comfort. His champion, as always.

In that moment, House realized she was there with him not because she thought he was pathetic and needed her help, but because she believed in him and she thought he was right, and she was willing to fight for that.

House felt intense emotion surge in his chest. For the first time in his entire miserable life someone really knew him, accepted him, and loved him. For a moment, he entertained the idea of getting up, pushing all the crap off Cuddy's desk, pushing Ann on to the desktop and taking her right in the middle of meeting.

Shankar's voice pulled him back. "My plan contains random drug testing, similar to the regimen Doctor House is currently under," Shankar said, keeping calm and professional. "He will not be able to use drugs at levels beyond those prescribed or drugs outside the protocol without being detected."

"I guess I don't see why the hospital should take the risk," Shyster Number Two stated.

"Setting aside the barbaric cruelty of leaving someone in agony when it's not necessary," Shankar argued, "Doctor House obviously cannot continue to function under his current circumstances. I would think the fact that his stomach was nearly destroyed would be reason enough."

"We didn't tell Doctor House to take what he did. We can't be held responsible for his abusing alcohol and pain medication," Shyster Number Four intoned.

"Yes, you can," Ginsberg jumped in. "You can because you made his lack of effective pain medication a condition of his return to work after he had been in the mental hospital. And you can also be held liable."

"Liable?" Shyster Number Three questioned. "For what?"

"For the injury Doctor House has suffered due to his draconian working conditions."

"Draconian working conditions?" Shyster Number One repeated. "You make it sound like he was in an unsafe sweatshop or something."

"Well, there have been a few tripping hazards," Ginsberg noted calmly. He, House, Ann and Nolan saw Cuddy blanch.

"What?" Shyster Number Four asked in a bewildered voice.

"We can discuss that later," Ginsberg answered, looking directly at Cuddy. Although many of the people in the room didn't see it, the threat was almost as explicit as if Ginsberg had actually said the words.

"With all that has happened in the past few days, I have to agree with Mr. Ginsberg on this," Cuddy interjected hastily, sounding a bit rattled. "I believe we should follow Doctor Shankar's recommendations, including the random testing, of course. So, are we done here?"

Cuddy stood up behind her desk in an effort to bring an end to the meeting.

"Thank you, Doctor Cuddy," Ginsberg said. "However, I think we're just getting started."

"I think we're finished," Cuddy insisted forcefully.

"Well, Doctors Shankar and Nolan are very busy, so, since the medical issue is settled, I'm fine with taking a break to allow them to return to their important work." Ginsberg agreed. "So, once they've left, shall we reconvene immediately, or, if not, when shall we set up the meeting for the legal issues? I've cleared my calendar for the rest of today and I'd certainly be happy to accommodate your schedule. In fact, since all these issues may take some time, I plan to stay in Princeton for most of the week. "

"What issues?" Shyster Number Two asked.

"Well, as I said before," Ginsberg began, "The hospital is liable for the injuries Doctor House sustained because of the effect of his employment agreement. We need to negotiate a settlement for that."

"Negotiate a settlement?" Moneybags Number Two jumped in. "Are you talking about money?"

"As much as I'm sure Doctor House would appreciate a personal apology from Doctor Cuddy and every member of the hospital board," Ginsberg answered, "He also deserves some compensation for an egregious injury."

"Was it really that serious?" Shyster Number Three questioned.

"My understanding is that Doctor House could have bled to death," Ginsberg responded. "And he's certainly looking at a lengthy convalescence."

"That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?" Shyster Number Four insisted.

"Since you are an attorney for a hospital," Ginsberg observed, "I'm assuming you have bothered to familiarize yourself with mortality statistics. Improper use of NSAIDs is the fifteenth leading cause of death in this country. And that only accounts for deaths from prescription NSAIDs, not over-the-counter. So, the death rate most likely is even higher. It's a good thing Doctor House was in a hospital, whatever its quality, when his stomach gave out, or he very likely could have died."

Cuddy looked like she was about to protest Ginsberg's statement about her hospital's worth when one of the Board members jumped in.

"What kind of money are we talking about here?" Moneybags Number One inquired.

"I don't think we would be satisfied with less than fifty-seven million," Ginsberg stated.

"What? Are you crazy?" Shyster Number One asked. "There's no way that's going to happen."

"We are willing to go to court," Ginsberg noted. "It seems to me that the publicity associated with a hospital being negligent enough to injure one of its own doctors is not something a teaching institution that ever needed government grants, corporate funding, private charitable donations or even future patients would want."

"This is nothing short of legal blackmail!" Moneybags Number Two exclaimed.

" 'Legal' being the operative word," Ginsberg smirked slightly.

"I still don't see how this is the hospital's fault," Shyster Number Three stated. "Even if the employment agreement was a contributing factor to behavior on Doctor House's part that wasn't healthy - and I'm not admitting that it was – there was no way for the hospital to know that."

"There certainly was," Doctor Nolan spoke for the first time. "Doctor Shankar and I sent reports and recommendations as early as January of this year."

"Which were not received," Cuddy explained.

"A startling coincidence that two letters sent from two entirely different locations would both just happen to be lost in the mail, don't you think?" Ginsberg asked.

House saw Cuddy shudder slightly. He, of all the people in the room, knew her well enough to know by that tiny motion that she was lying about not receiving the paperwork in January. Not that she was not going to admit it. It didn't matter anyway, since there was no way to prove it.

"In any case," Shankar interjected. "A second set of the same report and letters was sent the first week of February and was received the following week."

"And Doctor House did not have his medical crisis until the third week of March. That seems ample time to have done something," Ginsberg noted.

All eyes turned to Cuddy for an explanation. "Well," Cuddy clarified, "Since the employment agreement had to be approved by the Board, any change to that agreement also has to be approved by the Board. The Board only meets every other month. And the agenda for the March meeting was already full."

"Aren't there times when the Board meets besides its scheduled meetings?" Ginsberg asked. "Why didn't you call a special session?"

Cuddy replied, "Because I was unaware of the seriousness or urgency of Doctor's House's medical condition . . . "

"I beg to differ on that point, Doctor Cuddy," Ginsberg countered. "In Doctor Shankar's report, on the concluding page, it clearly states, and I quote, 'As my findings indicate, Doctor House has been attempting to treat severe pain with nothing more than ibuprofen and alcohol. This combination is worrisome enough in a casual user. For someone with an acute chronic pain condition like Doctor House, this is cause for serious concern. It appears to be only a matter of time before there will be serious physical consequences, including potentially severe damage to the patient's gastrointestinal tract. I cannot recommend strongly enough that he immediately be placed on the pain management regimen I have described in this report. This is a matter of utmost urgency. There can be no delay.' Seems pretty clear to me, even as a non-medical person, that something has to be done yesterday."

"Doctor Cuddy, were you aware of this?" Moneybags Number Two asked.

Cuddy looked extremely uncomfortable. "Well, let me just say that I was very busy at the time these letters arrived, negotiating our reimbursement rate with the insurance company, which I considered my top priority."

"Which was not as successful as last year," Moneybags Number One added. "In any case, it is your responsibility to keep up on all aspects of your job, as you well know. Besides, all that effort will be wasted if the hospital is forced into a large settlement and increased insurance rates due to your negligence, and – "

"I think Mr. Ginsberg is correct that we should reconvene at a later time," Shyster Number Two interjected. It was obvious that the attorneys thought a dressing down of the hospital administrator by a Board member shouldn't be done in front of opposing counsel. Especially when that Board member was using a word like "negligence."

"So, it's about eleven," Ginsberg said, glancing at his Rolex. "Shall we meet back here at one, then?"

"We will need a little more time than that to prepare," Shyster Number Three said. "How about in two weeks?"

"Sure," Ginsberg said. "In the meantime, I'll just start my filings."

"Filings?" Shyster Number One questioned.

"For the lawsuit," Ginsberg said. "Since you are obviously using delay tactics by putting off the meeting, there's no need for me to wait for you. Also, expect subpoenas for Doctor Cuddy, all the Board members, your Human Resources director and anyone else involved, not to mention all records related to this case. Just as a professional courtesy, I want to let you know that I tend to cast a wide net during the discovery phase, so be prepared. You never know what interesting things we'll find once we start digging."

"I think we can get together on Thursday," Shyster Number Two informed him.

"Great," Ginsberg responded. With that, he put all his files in his briefcase. "Doctor House, I seem to have worked up a bit of an appetite. I don't suppose you and Ms. Mueller could join me for lunch?"

"Sorry, I can't," House said, indicating the wheelchair and his IV. "But Annie can go with you. She probably needs a break from the hospital, anyway."

"No, I can't, either," Ann said. "I've already planned to have lunch brought to Greg's room. You're welcome to join us there. Also, Doctor Nolan and Doctor Shankar, you're welcome as well."

"I'm afraid I will not be able to join you," Shankar said. "I have an afternoon appointment in the city. Even if I leave now, the timing will be tight."

"I need to leave as well," Nolan stated. "But, I'll take a rain check."

"Maybe once Greg is home, I can have everyone over for dinner," Ann suggested.

They all agreed, shook hands and went their separate ways.

Cuddy watched them go. It was not going to be a pleasant afternoon for her, nor a pleasant week. She'd be paying Marina a lot of overtime, no doubt.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: I forgot to give credit in the last chapter. The statistics that Ginsberg cited regarding deaths caused by NSAIDs came from one of my House/OC babe muses, glenlivet19. A million thanks, glennie. Oh, if you aren't reading her story, Run Away From the Pain, you're missing out on a great read. And don't forget her classic, The Elle Word. Go check them out.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, except OCs.

House, Ann and Ginsberg went back up to House's room.

"That seems to have gone reasonably well," Ann observed as she helped House into a chair.

"The medical stuff was a slam dunk," Ginsberg noted. "The rest won't be so easy. But we do have at least one advantage."

"What's that?" House asked.

"Your almost brutal honesty," Ginsberg stated.

"His honesty? I'm not following you," Ann said.

"Doctor House has been pretty open about things like his drug use and some of his other less-than-model-employee behavior," Ginsberg opined. "So, nothing that comes out in discovery is likely to shock anyone."

"That's certainly true," House snorted. "I've worked hard for my reputation."

"And, in this case, that's in our favor," Ginsberg argued. "No one will view Doctor House's behavior as anything but 'normal' for him and won't be surprised by it. Therefore, he has nothing to fear from discovery. Doctor Cuddy, on the other hand . . . "

". . . has a reputation to protect," Ann said, "And a job that requires personal credibility and propriety, so if her behavior becomes known it could ruin her standing and endanger her job."

"Precisely," Ginsberg agreed. "So, she has every reason to go along with pretty much everything we want. And, since she is the official face of the hospital, her behavior is a reflection upon the Board that hired her and kept her working here. They're not going to want to be embarrassed by what she's done, either. Or endanger the hospital's reputation, for that matter."

"Remind me never to have you on the opposing side," House commented.

"You wouldn't, Doctor House," Ginsberg said. "I've made a successful and profitable career representing the little guy against large institutions. I don't go after individuals."

"If it was a good enough case . . . " House ventured.

"Nope," Ginsberg disagreed. "I don't like going after people for mistakes. I prefer to take down the arrogance and stupidity of large organizations. That's where the money is, for one thing."

"And the other things?" Ann asked.

"I'm very good at what I do," Ginsberg stated, matter-of-factly, "So, I wouldn't want to use that expertise on some poor Joe Q. Slob somewhere. It wouldn't be fair."

"What's fair got to do with?" House inquired cynically.

"Nothing, if you don't care about that sort of thing," Ginsberg admitted.

"And you obviously do, because . . . ?" House questioned.

"That's what my Mom and Dad taught me," Ginsberg answered.

"Let me guess," House said. "They were affluent, left-wing Jews living in Connecticut, and they taught you to care about the less fortunate."

"Hardly," Ginsberg countered. "They were Jewish refugees and we lived in Crown Heights. My Dad was in Bergen-Belsen and my Mom survived Auschwitz. He was a factory worker and she was an electrician."

"An electrician?" Ann asked.

"She was a seamstress in a small Polish town," Ginsberg explained. "When she got to the camp, she saw there were a lot of other girls who were seamstresses, and they were all in this long line. She decided that didn't look good, so she told the guards she was an electrician."

"That was smart," House noted. "But isn't that something that's hard to fake?"

"She figured it out as she went along. She's eighty-six and she can still wire a switch," Ginsberg noted proudly.

Hadley came in with soup and sandwiches and promptly left.

Ginsberg and Ann ate their lunches while House attempted to eat the items on his lunch tray. Ann took pity on him and gave him her soup. House took it since he was hungry, it was real (that is, non-hospital) food and he saw she wasn't going to eat it. He also noticed that she barely touched her sandwich.

He was worried about her lack of appetite, but he supposed she could still be stressed out from everything that had been going on. Heck, it could even be as simple a thing as she was sick of take-out. She always did prefer the food she cooked herself. He decided not to say anything, but to watch her and wait to see if her appetite improved once they got home.

"So, you told everyone at the meeting you're here the rest of the week," Ann remembered. "Where are you staying?"

"Um, that was a bit of a bluff," Ginsberg admitted. "I did pack a bag, just in case, but I really don't have any reservations. I guess I'll be on the internet this afternoon looking for a hotel."

"If you don't mind messy, you can stay at our place," Ann offered.

"You don't want a guy you barely know at your house," Ginsberg stated. "Besides, when Doctor House gets discharged, I'm sure there won't be enough room."

"He's not going home any time soon," Chase interjected as he entered the room, carrying some paperwork. "We have to get him off the post-op pain meds and get his new pain management regimen working before we discharge him."

House groaned in frustration. "I didn't agree to that."

"Your pain management specialist insists that we get the meds regulated as much as possible," Chase said.

"And we don't want to give the other side any ammunition regarding your new protocol," Ginsberg noted. "That means you're going to have to do this by the book."

"Great," House muttered. "How long is _that_ going to take?"

"I'd say you won't be going home before the weekend," Chase estimated.

"Which means I'll be here until then, too," Ann noted. "So, Shel, you can have the house all to yourself."

"I'm a lawyer," Ginsberg stated with a smirk, "Are you sure you don't want to go home first and lock up the valuables? Seriously, I'm pretty sure I'll be around next week, too. What happens when you get home?"

"Not counting the master bedroom, I have three bedrooms with adjoining baths," Ann noted, "And I have another bedroom with a fold-out couch. I think we'll be able to figure it out."

"But you hardly know me," Ginsberg protested.

"Hell," House interjected, "She _slept_ with me the day we met."

Ginsberg smiled. "Are you offering to _share_, Doctor House?"

"No way!" House growled. "Get your own hot babe."

"Besides," Ann sighed theatrically, "Greg has ruined me for any other man."

"It's true. I _have_ ruined her for any other man," House chimed in. "Me and my friend Huge Johnson."

"I thought it was the trauma associated with getting anywhere near you," Chase interjected, trying to deflect the discomfort he felt about the discussion of Ann and House's sex life. "It's time to remove your IV."

"And that's my cue to leave," Ginsberg said. "I'm not so much for the blood and guts."

"Then watch yourself with Cuddy," House informed him. "She's been known to rip the heads off men and suck out their insides."

"Thanks for the warning," Ginsberg smiled.

"Let me walk out with you," Ann offered.

Ann gave Ginsberg her key, the security code, directions to the house and she told him about all the prepared food she had in the basement freezer. She also texted Danielle to tell her that they had a houseguest, just so Danielle wouldn't be surprised if she went over to get Ann some clean clothes and found the attorney staying there.

By the time she returned, House was IV-free.

"I'll be back in three hours to give you your first dose of oral pain meds," Chase told House and left.

"Three hours, huh?" Ann asked with a playful tone in her voice. "What are we going to do with three whole hours?"

"There are certain things that spring to mind," House answered with a leer of his own. "It seems to me that someone promised me some post-meeting sex."

Ann lowered the blinds and went to the door and locked it.

"Other than the 'excursion' this morning, which was hardly a relaxing experience, you've been stuck in one of these uncomfortable beds for several days. How about a massage first?"

Ann helped House out of his clothes and took off hers as well. She helped him to the bed.

"Do you want me face up or face down?"

"Face down."

House rolled over on to his abdomen.

There was a pause. "I know I've told you this before, but you have the most gorgeous back." Ann began kissing him on the nape of the neck. She traveled down his entire dorsal side, placing soft kisses everywhere.

House felt slightly self-conscious as she reached his love handles. Granted, compared to most guys his age, they were pretty small, but they were still there and a reminder that he couldn't just work out and get rid of them.

House felt a jolt when Ann ran her face all along the back of his waist. It was a silent statement that she accepted this part of him, too. And it was even deeper than that. It was a genuine gesture of unconditional love. House felt some intense feelings rise in his chest. If she didn't start the massage soon, he wasn't sure if he could keep it together much longer.

He uttered a small groan when she began kissing his butt. Luckily, this brought arousal rather than profound emotion, which helped pull him back a little.

His arousal was intensified further when she moved his legs apart and began caressing the spot in-between his butt crack and his balls. House began to make whimpering noises as the caressing changed to tickling and, then, even worse, to licking.

All thoughts of a massage departed what was left of his rational brain as she moved to licking his balls.

"Fuck, Annie," he hissed as she paused and gently turned him over. His erection sprang up and she took him into her mouth.

She went down on him just a few times. "I want you inside me when you come," she whispered huskily, unable to disguise the lust in her voice.

She moved up to straddle him. He grasped her firmly but gently by the hips and lowered her to the bed so they were lying side by side. Even though he would have preferred to take her with him on top, this was about the best he could manage right now.

He slid his fully erect penis along her channel. She was dripping wet. Although it shouldn't have surprised him at this point that her merely touching him was enough to make her completely aroused, it did. And it filled him with gratitude that this beautiful woman wanted him that much.

He penetrated her slowly, to make sure she felt every bit of him. The sounds she made told him he was having the effect he wanted. After he was inside her up to the hilt, he pulled out again, feeling her body clutch at him as he slid away. It was a sensation he knew he would never grow tired of because it told him the depth of her desire, and how welcome he was to join with her in this most intimate of ways.

He established a slow, steady rhythm, with her body moving in time to meet his thrusts. She came first – a lustful, loving, shuddering mass, unable to hide the depth of her pleasure.

He thrust inside her one last time and released completely, both physically and emotionally. He felt so safe with her that the feelings he'd been taught to hide, both by the cruelty of his father and by every betrayal he had ever experienced, were on full display in his face as he looked into hers.

Ann's breath hitched as she saw the incredible beauty in front of her eyes. She felt like she was being given a piece of his soul.

"I wish . . . I could tell you . . . how much I love you, but . . . there aren't words . . . " House's voice was thick and halting.

"I know . . . I feel the same way about you. You are the most magnificent man . . ." Ann choked slightly as she reached over and caressed his face.

They looked into each other's eyes for several moments, simply feeling the love passing between them. Finally, they pulled together into a tight embrace and fell asleep.

They weren't sure how long they had been sleeping when Ann's cell woke them up. It was Ginsberg. He had arrived at the house and had settled in. He needed the password to access the wireless connection so he could use the internet, which Ann supplied.

He spoke to House while Ann got up and got dressed. When House hung up, she helped House into a clean hospital gown and put a towel over the spunk, so House wouldn't have to sleep directly on top of it. Not that he would have minded, he told her.

She unlocked the door. Within a few minutes, Chase arrived with House's pain meds.

Chase supplied House with a copy of Shankar's report so he could review it, and briefly explained the protocol to Ann. It was somewhat more complicated than taking a pill a day, but not a heck of a lot more than that.

Ann felt her anger rising yet again, wondering why this hadn't been done earlier that year, or when House left the mental hospital a year and a half ago, or even when the bad cop had been going after him four years ago. That beautiful body and soul subjected to all those years of needless suffering. Well, she'd just have to make sure he never hurt like that again.

After House took the meds, Chase checked him out and then left again, telling House and Ann that they'd see him when Danielle brought dinner.

"I'm tired," House declared.

"Do you think that's a side effect of the new medication?" Ann asked with concern

"I think it's a side effect of a really great fuck," House answered with a small smile. "So, you're tired too, am I right?"

Ann looked at the expectancy on House's face, almost like a small child seeking parental approval. God, did he really not know by now how much she enjoyed having sex with him? And did he not know how earth-shattering that particular afternoon had been for her?

"Exhilarated and exhausted, yes," Ann responded. "You gave me a piece of your soul. Thank you."

House looked uncomfortable. He never knew what to say to her when she said things like this. He hesitated. "You're, um, welcome . . . "

"I never did give you that massage in this afternoon. How about now?"

"You're yawning. You _are_ too tired."

"I'm never too tired to touch you."

"Still, I like a little something-something with my massages. At least the ones from you. I think I'll need until tonight to recover enough."

"Do you want to take another nap, then?"

"As long as you join me."

Ann pushed the two beds together and climbed in. House spooned Ann and they both fell asleep in a matter of moments.

Chase and Danielle arrived around six with dinner. They saw the blinds were still closed, so they entered the room quietly. House and Ann were in bed, holding each other. He was drawing circles on her back, while she was caressing his face. They were talking quietly. Every so often, one would lean in to tenderly kiss the other – on the lips, the hair, the cheek, the chin, the forehead, the throat, the eyelids, the shoulder. They were completely relaxed, and, at the same time, intensely connected to each other. In its own way, it was a more intimate scene than if Chase and Danielle had walked in on them having sex.

Chase felt a slight twinge of jealousy, until he remembered he had Danielle with him. He thought of all the times in the last few days, in-between work, running errands and hospital visits, when they'd had sex or cuddled in bed with each other. Even better, setting aside the night he'd spent at the hospital monitoring House, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without her. He didn't realize he was grinning.

Danielle tapped Chase on the arm and gestured that they should leave the room.

"What?" Chase asked as they stood in the hallway.

"I just wanted to say I saw that you looked happy for them," Danielle responded, "And I wanted to acknowledge you for making progress with the PDAs."

"Um, thanks. Actually, that wasn't why I was smiling."

"Oh. Then why?"

"I was thinking about us."

It was Danielle's turn to break into a grin. "Yeah, it has been pretty good lately, hasn't it?"

"Uh-huh. Listen, um, what do you think about one of us giving up his or her apartment?"

Chase made sure he asked the question in the most oblique way possible because of past experience with Cameron. Whenever he suggested taking the relationship to the next level, she would hesitate, tell him all the reasons it was a bad idea, tell him she wasn't ready, and try to talk him out of it. Chase braced himself for Danielle to say something negative.

"Sure," Danielle said without the slightest hesitation. "Any preferences which apartment?"

"Well, mine is bigger, but yours is newer."

"I think there are bigger apartments in my building, so we could both move, if you wanted to . . . "

"Yeah, instead of your moving into my place or my moving into yours, it might be a good idea to move into a new apartment together."

Again, Chase braced himself for a litany of objections, but none were forthcoming.

"I'll text the management company tonight and see if we can meet with someone tomorrow at lunch to check out what's available."

"Great. We should probably go interrupt the love birds before the food gets cold."

"Okay."

They re-entered the room to find House and Ann in a full-throttle, deep-throated kiss.

Chase cleared his throat loudly. "You might want to eat first and get some strength before you move things along any further."

"Killjoy," House muttered as he and Ann separated.

Ann climbed out and she and Chase moved her bed away while Danielle began to put food out on House's bed tray.

"What did you get?" he asked eagerly.

"We went to Antonio's," Danielle told him, "because Annie just loves their puttanesca." Danielle shot House a look that Ann didn't see, but that let House understand he wasn't the only one who was concerned about Ann's lack of appetite. House returned a knowing look.

House didn't want to Ann to figure out what had passed between himself and Danielle, so he deflected by turning the attention back to him. "Yeah, yeah, what did you get for me?"

Chase and Ann had returned to the bedside, and Chase rolled his eyes at House's apparent display of self-centered-ness, not having seen the exchange between House and Danielle.

"Well, you were a bit of a challenge," Danielle admitted. "We thought anything with tomatoes would have acid in it that might bother your stomach. So, that meant no bolognese, marinara or red clam sauce, not to mention fra diavolo. We thought seafood wasn't the best on an iffy stomach, so no white clam sauce. And we thought the alfredo sauce wouldn't sit too well because it would have too much fat."

"So, what did you get me?" House whined. "A breadstick?"

"Too rough of a texture," Chase interjected, enjoying House's distress.

"We finally decided on pasta with pesto," Danielle stated. "We told them to go easy on the parmesan so it wouldn't be too salty."

"Gimme," House said, putting out his hands, palms facing him with fingers repeatedly and rapidly moving towards him in the universal sign of grabby-ness.

Chase rolled his eyes a second time. "You're welcome."

Danielle pulled out a foam plate and served up House. She then pulled out another plate for Ann.

"Why don't you serve yourself and Robert first?" Ann asked.

"I've already got the container open," Danielle said, looking at House meaningfully, but almost imperceptibly.

"Take it easy," Ann requested as she saw Danielle pile food on her plate.

"But you love this puttanesca," Danielle stated. "I just want to make sure you have enough."

"I can always get seconds, so slow down," Ann said. There was slight irritation in her voice, and not only did House and Danielle hear it, but so did Chase.

"Can I have something?" Chase gave Danielle his best puppy-dog eyes, trying to diffuse the situation.

Danielle gave herself and Chase some of the linguine with red clam sauce. The room became silent as they ate.

As they finished up, House belched loudly. "That was excellent!" he proclaimed.

"You're going to be so used to take-out that you won't want to eat what I cook anymore," Ann said, trying to sound like she was joking, but sounding despondent instead.

"Are you kidding?" House asked rhetorically. "I spent years eating take-out and I can hardly wait to get back to your home-cooked food."

"Well, that's a lot of pressure," Ann commented.

"Okay," House responded. "You're afraid I won't want to eat your cooking and then you're afraid I will? What's wrong, Annie?"

"Nothing," Ann said. "I guess I'm just tired."

"These beds aren't exactly comfy," House noted. "I have to stay; you don't. Why don't you go home tonight?"

"I was kind of looking forward to sleeping with you with no IVs in your arms, but if you want me to go . . . "

"C'mon, Annie, don't do this! I'd like nothing more than for you to stay with me. I'm trying not to be my usual selfish bastard self, but you're giving me a hard time about it. Why?"

"I'm sorry. I think it's just the fatigue and stress."

"Okay. So, you're going home, then, to get a good night's sleep?"

"I haven't slept without you for a long time. I don't think I can any more. I want to stay."

"Would you like me to prescribe a sleeping pill?" Chase asked. "Would that help?"

"No thank you," Ann responded. "Addictive personalities and sleep aids are a bad combination."

"I guess," Chase agreed.

"I have an idea," Danielle stated. She reached into her purse and took out an i-pod. She flipped through the playlist and then selected something.

She put it in the dock she brought earlier. (Ann had requested it when House was unconscious because she thought it would calm him to listen to his favorite music.) The room was filled with sounds of the ocean.

"I'm not crazy about any new-age crap," House talked over the sounds.

"It's not like it's Enya or anything," Danielle cringed at the thought as she turned the volume down a little. "It's just the ocean. And it doesn't have any of those awful squawking seagulls. I had to look for a while to find this."

"I don't want to make you listen to this if you think it will bother you," Ann interjected. "You need your rest, too. But, it does remind me of the time at the bed and breakfast last fall when we made love on the beach."

"So, you're saying we can have the atmosphere of that really hot fuck without the sand in our buttcracks?" House asked.

"Okay," Chase muttered. "We're officially in the TMI zone now. We have to get going."

"Yeah," House responded, "Time for you two to go home and get your own sex on."

Danielle giggled and Chase somehow avoided blushing.

Danielle and Ann packed up the leftover food and put it back in the bag for Danielle to take home.

"See you tomorrow," Danielle called over her shoulder as Chase pulled her out of the room.

"Are you going home?" House asked.

"Nope," Ann replied. "It's just too difficult for me to sleep without you."

"That really shouldn't make me as happy as it does," House noted.

"Let's get ready for bed," Ann said with a small smile.

They went to the bathroom. Ann brushed her teeth and used the toilet. She quickly changed as House checked her out. He pretended to be leering so she wouldn't know he was looking to see if there was any visible weight loss. She looked fine to House, which was strange, since she hadn't been eating much for several days.

Ann stood behind House was he brushed his teeth. His gown was open and the back of him was on display. Ann started to fondle his bottom. "Just gorgeous," she commented softly as she continued to stroke his backside.

Even as House enjoyed the grope, he wondered what was going on. Ann was exhausted and she wouldn't eat anything, but she had the energy to feel him up like this? It didn't make sense. Something was wrong.

Or was he just over-thinking things? He knew his brain liked diagnostic puzzles, so he wondered if his subconscious was just looking for one to keep him occupied. Everything that was happening with Ann could be explained by fatigue and stress. Time to stop looking for zebras and go to sleep.

House got back into bed and took the pain meds the nurse had brought for him.

The nurse left and Ann pushed the two beds together and climbed in.

House put his arms out and pulled Ann into him. It felt really good after so many days of not being able to hold her while they slept.

"I love you, you know," House told her.

"I know," Ann acknowledged. "And I love you, too."

She settled her head on his shoulder and tenderly caressed his chest. Before long, House could feel her hand still and hear her breathing even out as she slept.

House didn't fall asleep immediately. He was aware of a nagging feeling in his gut that was telling him something about Ann wasn't quite right. He didn't think it was a crisis, so he pushed it out of his mind. He'd figure it out tomorrow. Sleep finally came.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: This chapter has virtually no House or Ann in it, but I thought after the intensity of the hospital stay we could use a break. (Although, there is some smut in this chapter, just because I can't stop myself, apparently.) Some insight into Ginsberg, I hope, and a little Chase and Danielle (for those of you requesting it). Anyway, you've been warned. ;)

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own Except OCs, etc.

House spent the rest of the week in the hospital and Ann stayed with him. It took a little doing to get House's pain meds regulated, but he was ready to be discharged by Saturday.

Ginsberg met with the hospital attorneys and Cuddy on Thursday. As Ginsberg had expected they might, they brought in about a half-dozen more lawyers. He'd faced corporations that had fifty attorneys on the other side, so he was hardly intimidated. In fact, several times during the meeting, Ginsberg actually had to remind himself not to laugh.

It was the typical thinking of a large organization – deal with an issue by throwing money and people at it. No one ever stepped back to think about whether doing that actually improved anything. In fact, Ginsberg knew that it was always the opposite. Whatever stupidity or wrong thinking that created the problem sure as hell wasn't going to be fixed by more of it. What did Einstein say? The definition of insanity is doing more of the same thing and expecting a different result.

It was Ginsberg's experience that these large organizations got so caught up in enforcing their own culture that they couldn't see when that culture became dysfunctional. The pedophile priest scandal in the Catholic Church was a prime example. It wasn't the pedophilia itself that had caused most of the problems. That kind of behavior happened in all organizations, sadly enough.

What got them was the cover-up. And the cover-up was most likely inevitable, given the self-righteousness and arrogance of the people running the organization. When you believe as a matter of faith that the top guy can't make a mistake, especially when there is overwhelming past experience that proves otherwise, you're bound to run into the trouble that comes from unquestioning loyalty sooner or later. Throw in one of the world's oldest old-boy networks, and it was a wonder that even worse choices weren't made in the name of "protecting" the organization.

Hospitals weren't as myopic as the Catholic Church, but they were close. The way doctors were trained was little more than a medieval guild system, with all the abuses and bad attitudes toward underlings that engendered. That training in hierarchy taught that it was wrong to question authority, which was why Greg House had such a hard time in this environment.

It was also a large part of what made him a great doctor – he refused to be deferential to colleagues when they were wrong or short-sighted. It cured the patients but violated the code that doctors stick together. And so the hospital, it the form of Doctor Lisa Cuddy, tried to enforce that code, through whatever means necessary – even if it involved manipulation and abuse.

The pattern was something Ginsberg had seen more than he cared to remember – lone individual doing the right thing and being punished by his workplace because it violated some part of the culture – nearly always some vulnerability that the other people in the organization didn't want highlighted. In this case, it was that doctors weren't infallible and that the mistakes they did make were often due to their own conceit.

Well, that arrogance would be their downfall, and Ginsberg was more than happy to exploit it. The injustices perpetrated against this man were huge. Ginsberg hadn't been this excited about a case – about righting a wrong – in a long time.

The meeting itself had surfaced quite a bit of the happenings at Princeton Plainsboro. Most of the attorneys were able to maintain their poker faces, but the hospital Board members weren't quite so smooth. Ginsberg wasn't sure what the fallout would be. He was working for a large negotiated settlement, in the multi-millions, if possible, and he was pretty sure he had at least a chance of obtaining that.

What would happen to the hospital if he was successful was another story, although he had heard some of the board members express "concern" that Doctor Cuddy had perhaps too heavy a workload to keep track of everything she needed to, and that maybe a reduction in her duties was warranted. The hospital lawyers shut down that line of comment almost immediately since opposing counsel was present. It came too close to an admission that Cuddy had screwed up and that the Board was at fault for keeping her in her job.

Ginsberg wished he could be a fly on the wall for the meeting where Cuddy's role in this situation and the consequences for her were discussed, but that really wasn't relevant to the case. So, he'd just have to observe the outcome.

He didn't necessarily wish Cuddy any ill will. He, like Ann, simply wanted consequences for the things Cuddy had done. That was another reason it was important that he get a large settlement. Otherwise, the tendency of the attorneys and the Board would be to sweep everything under the rug and continue as though nothing had happened. That was not an acceptable outcome as far as Ginsberg was concerned.

* * *

Danielle and Chase met with a representative from the management company on Thursday as well. They looked at a couple of apartments in the building and decided on one that had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, one of which had a Jacuzzi tub for two. There was also a balcony.

Chase told Danielle there was something she needed to know before they signed a lease. So, they informed the management company that they wanted some time to think about it, and they would have a decision by the following Monday.

The representative made the appropriate grumbling noises about their potentially losing the apartment, but Danielle knew it was a bluff because the apartment hadn't been rented for several months. The odds that it would be rented out from under them in the next three days were pretty slim. In any case, it was a renters' market, so, even if they somehow lost this place, they wouldn't have much trouble finding another one, especially since they didn't have children or pets.

After work Friday night, Chase and Danielle went out to dinner at a little hole-in-wall restaurant that had good appetizers and pizza. Danielle wondered if Chase was going to talk to her then, but he begged off, saying it wasn't anything that should be discussed in public. He also refused to talk about it when they got home because he was too tired from a long day and a long week.

House was discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning, and Chase and Danielle helped Ann get him home. Ginsberg had gone back to New York for the weekend and was returning Monday. Both House and Ann were exhausted, so Chase and Danielle left in the early afternoon. They had offered to bring food for Saturday night, but Ann told them she had a lot of things in the freezer. Danielle promised to check in on Sunday afternoon to see if they needed anything.

So, by mid-afternoon there were no more distractions. Chase knew he couldn't put off the discussion any longer. He'd been dreading this pretty much from the time he'd first met Danielle, or maybe from the first time he'd slept with her. It really didn't matter – all he knew was that he had to get this out there. It certainly had the potential to be a serious problem for them, if history were any guide.

"I'd like to talk about the thing now, if that's okay with you," Chase began.

"Sure," Danielle responded. They were sitting next to each other on the couch in her apartment.

"About a year and a half ago, we got this patient. His name was Diabila, and he was the leader of a country in Africa."

"I've heard of him, I think. Didn't he have himself declared ruler for life?"

"Yeah. A lot of those guys do that kind of thing. Anyway, House wasn't leading the team then because he had just returned from the mental hospital and didn't have his license back yet, so Foreman was in charge."

Danielle couldn't stop herself from making a disgusted face. She wasn't a huge fan of Foreman. She thought he was aloof and arrogant, and that he really didn't have the skills to warrant his high opinion of himself.

Of course, she knew she was hardly unbiased in what she saw as the competition between the two doctors. She loved Chase and thought he was the best doctor on the team, other than House. She also thought she sensed that House knew that, too. In any case, the idea of Foreman being Chase's boss didn't exactly make her happy.

Chase continued the story, pulling her back.

"So, we went through our usual process and we figured out it was one of two conditions. I won't bore you with the medicine, but the treatment for one of the conditions was fatal if he had the other condition. We treated him for the first condition and he had the second."

"And he died?"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry that happened, and I know it's unusual for you to lose patients, but I don't see why this is such a huge thing. You made a mistake and - "

"No, actually, I didn't."

"You didn't? But you gave him the wrong treatment, thinking it was the right one – "

"I knew it wasn't right."

"What? I'm just not following you here, sweetie. Help me out."

Chase flinched at the term of endearment. He loved her so much. This was going to hurt when she rejected him. Better get it over with.

"I knew he had the second illness, not the first. So I knew he would die from the treatment I gave him."

"You mean that you killed him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why doesn't matter."

"You bet your ass it does. Tell me."

Chase was surprised by Danielle's almost angry response. Well, she was about to get a lot angrier.

"He told me that when he was cured, he was going to return to his country and 'get rid' of a group of people."

"As in genocide?"

"Yes."

"And you had no reason to doubt what he said."

"He was pretty convincing."

"Dear God."

There was a long silence as Danielle appeared to be processing what Chase had told her. He braced himself for the rejection.

When Danielle spoke, she used a soft, almost gentle, voice. "What happened after he died?"

"Foreman knew what I did, and because there was a patient death, there was a hospital review. Since Foreman was in charge, not House, he had to participate. To save both our asses, Foreman helped me make it look like an error . . . "

_That explains why he puts up with Foreman's crap_, Danielle thought. _It's mutual need_.

"House figured it out, of course. Why he didn't turn me in, I have no idea."

_Because he loves you like a son, you idiot_, Danielle thought. She didn't say anything so they wouldn't go off on a tangent.

"And, after that, I had a . . . hard time with things," Chase admitted. "I started drinking heavily. I didn't tell Cameron what had happened. She knew something was wrong, but when I wouldn't tell her, that caused a strain in our relationship, of course. This is going to sound stupid, but I even went to confession."

"Really?"

"Not that it did me any good. The priest told me to go to the police. And he refused to absolve me."

There was a pause as Danielle thought about what he said. As a former Catholic, she knew that a priest wouldn't refuse absolution solely because the person wouldn't turn themselves in to a civil authority. The light slowly dawned.

"He wouldn't absolve you because you told him you weren't sorry for what you did. Were you then? Are you now?"

"I'm sorry for what happened to the people around me. I'm sorry that it made me owe something to Foreman. I'm sorry for the pain it caused Cameron. At the time, I was sorry it made her leave me . . . "

"But that act itself – you're not sorry for that?"

"I had only two options – save one life and be responsible for the deaths of thousands, or kill one person and save thousands."

"What an impossible situation to be in . . . "

"Yeah, well, that happens sometimes."

Chase looked away. He waited for Danielle to tell him what a terrible human being he was. He tolerated the silence as long as he could.

"Well?" he asked, finally daring to look at her. He was completely surprised by what he saw on her face. There was a softness in her eyes that looked like . . . could it be . . . _compassion_?

"You had to make a choice. You choose to save a whole group of people, and the only way you could do that was to have someone else die. You violated your ethical obligations as a doctor, not to mention your own values as a person. And doing that wounded you profoundly. And yet you did it anyway because you knew it was the right thing. I don't think I've ever known a person as brave and as strong as you are. I'm so proud of you. And I love you more than I can say."

As Danielle's words washed over Chase, he could feel tears gathering in his eyes. Finally someone understood why he did what he did; someone accepted him and respected him. It felt like it was a lifetime in coming. And here it was, in the form of a caring, beautiful woman whom he loved and who loved him. The tears began falling and he couldn't stop them.

Danielle pulled Chase to her, enfolding him in her large arms and resting his head on her ample chest. "It's okay, sweetie, let it go now."

Chase did let it go. All the pain he'd kept inside from what he'd done, and a lot of the other pain from his life. His body shook from the intensity of his sobbing and Danielle held on.

It took a while, but gradually the force of the crying began to lessen. Chase became aware that Danielle was not only holding him, she was rocking him in her arms. Voices in his head told him not to let it continue – Cameron turning away and saying that what he'd done was so terrible she just couldn't deal with it or with him, his father reminding him that big boys don't cry because Rowan didn't want to face his son's pain from being abandoned, and Chase's own voice telling him he wasn't likely to get much affection or comfort from a drunk or hung-over mother.

Chase pushed all that aside and simply burrowed deeper into Danielle. For the first time in a long time, maybe most of his life, he felt safe and cared for, and he decided not to throw that away to feed his demons.

Eventually, Chase stopped. Danielle got up and got a cool washcloth from the bathroom. She tenderly washed his face and Chase allowed himself some more time to feel nurtured.

"So, are you ready to move in with a murderer?"

"I'm ready to live with a hero, yes."

"Heroes don't do terrible things."

"Bullshit."

"It's true."

"No, it's not. Would you say that someone who has a war medal is a hero?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How do you think they win those medals?"

"It varies, doesn't it? I mean it's probably that they do something to save their unit or something."

"And how do you do that in a war?"

"I don't know."

"You do, but you don't want to admit it. You _kill_ people."

"Yeah, but that's the enemy."

"And this guy was an enemy of humanity."

"I think that's a bit of a stretch."

"I don't. I can remember having this philosophical discussion with friends when I was in college - would you have killed Hitler if you had the chance?"

"And how did you answer?"

"I said I didn't know. I said I didn't know if I would be strong or courageous enough to do it."

"Stop using words like 'brave' and 'strong' and 'courageous.' It wasn't anything like that."

"No, like most things in life, it was a lot messier. At least I've learned that much since I was a naïve undergraduate. And even if the act itself didn't feel like slaying a dragon, the result was positive for so many people. That's what counts."

"Yeah. Until the next dictator comes along."

"Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. One tyrant at a time."

"Hey, um . . . "

"What?"

"You know how you were, um, holding, uh, me, um, before . . . "

"Yeah."

"Would you mind doing that . . . in bed?"

"I will on one condition."

"What?"

"That before we settle in, I get to touch you wherever I want."

"Well, I don't know."

"Aw, c'mon. For someone who is so gorgeous, it seems that you have an issue with someone appreciating your body."

"I'm just not used to it, I guess."

"Well, there's a goal."

"What?"

"To make your body feel totally loved."

"How are you going to do that?"

"You'll see. Take off your clothes."

Chase and Danielle retreated to the bedroom and removed each other's clothing.

Danielle had Chase lie on the bed. She began to touch and kiss him in non-erogenous zones - his shins, his biceps and his forehead. She then moved on to more tender places like the inside of his elbows, his collarbone and his eyelids.

Chase remembered seeing House and Ann kiss each other on the eyelids. Chase didn't know why, but it was incredibly intimate. Maybe because the eyes were the windows to the soul and the only way to kiss them was to kiss the lids? Or was it because a person was so very vulnerable with their eyes closed? Chase didn't know, but he felt a jolt when Danielle began kissing the bottoms of his feet.

"Don't do that," Chase told her.

"Why not?" she asked as she totally disregarded his wishes and continued to kiss. She separated his toes with her hands and kissed between them.

"It's just, um . . . "

"I'm a fluffy girl, so I'm very oral." With that statement, Danielle began to lick the sole of Chase's left foot. She pulled his toes apart again and licked in-between them.

"Shhiiitt," Chase grunted as his manhood started to come to attention. "Ple-ease . . . "

"Okay," Danielle agreed as she completed her licking at the little toe on his right foot. She moved up his legs with both her hands and her mouth, caressing and kissing. She had him flip over on his back and she kissed and touched him everywhere, all the way up his legs, across his back and up the nape of his neck. She was sighing softly.

She rolled him back over and continued at his abdomen. She covered his chest, his arms, his hands, his throat and his face with kisses and soft caresses.

Chase's brain was on overload. What Danielle was doing was totally erotic and incredibly tender at the same time.

She started to lick Chase's balls while she caressed his ass. Chase thought he would turn inside out. He was no longer coherent enough to speak, so he was making grunting noises.

He moaned as Danielle took him into her mouth. She went up and down his cock, stopping to slide back his foreskin and tickle and lick the exposed tip. Chase began bucking his hips.

Wordlessly, Danielle climbed up the bed and straddled Chase. She took him in completely and began to ride him, sliding up and down.

Danielle had taken rides before. And, as much as Chase wanted to get past his fat issues, he still wasn't completely there yet. So, when Danielle was on top like this, Chase usually kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't see too much flesh moving around. He decided, after the way she made him feel that she deserved to be looked at, so this time he kept his eyes open.

What he saw astonished him. First, there were those huge, exquisite breasts bouncing very nicely. Her legs weren't flabby looking at all – in fact, with all the exertion she was engaged in, they looked almost muscular. Her belly was jiggling quite a lot, but it was, well, cute. When he reached around to her behind, it was big and firm and felt fantastic to squeeze.

And her face. She wore about five different expressions – lust, love, bliss, abandon, joy - at the same time, and her eyes sparkled like fireflies dancing on a hot summer night. He had never seen anything – anyone – so beautiful.

As her orgasm approached, her face became even more beautiful, showing just how much she wanted him. As her muscles began to contract around him, his own body responded, emptying himself deeply inside her. She collapsed on the bed next to him, totally spent.

They were lying together and holding each other in the afterglow, giving each other tender touches. Chase glanced at her, loving the way she always looked so flushed after they'd had sex.

"That was amazing," Chase said

"Well, I can't caress your soul," Danielle responded, "So, I have to settle for loving your body."

"There is no way I'd call what just you did 'settling.' That was easily the most erotic experience of my life. And after everything you've said, and the way you touched me . . . let's just say my soul feels very loved at this moment."

"Good," Danielle sighed. "You deserve it, you know. You deserve to be loved and respected and . . . " Danielle struggled momentarily for the right word, "Cherished."

Chase felt his eyes fill up again. "Thanks." He managed to croak out.

Since Danielle had her head on his chest, she wasn't looking directly at him, but she knew he was being emotional. She decided to change the subject to spare his dignity.

"I haven't had much of a chance to shop this week, so there's not much food here. Do you want to go out for dinner?"

"Going out would require clothes, so I don't think so."

"Delivery?"

"Yeah."

"Who's going to answer the door if we're both naked?"

"You're sure as hell not going to. I don't want some delivery guy drooling over my woman's gorgeous body."

Danielle was about to protest that given her shape, that was unlikely, but the way Chase said it, well, he really seemed to mean it. And it did make her feel sexy.

"What if they send a woman or a gay guy?" Danielle asked. "I don't want them lusting over my beautiful man."

Something tugged inside Chase when Danielle said that. She really did see him that way. Without reservation or condition. Damn. "I'll just have to wear a towel or something, I guess," he said with a little congestion in his voice.

Danielle heard the emotion. She decided to let it pass. He'd been through enough today.

"So, Italian or Chinese?"

"How about Thai?"

"Sounds good."

They got up to look for a menu.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I just wanted to let everyone know that I did agonize a bit about whether to make Chase circumcised or uncircumcised. I looked up circumcision rates in Australia and found that there was a significant drop in the number of circumcisions performed in that country in the late seventies. Assuming Chase is in his earlier thirties that would mean he was in that age cohort where he was less likely to get circumcised. My research showed that the circumcision rate varied quite a bit by region in Australia, such that some states and territories still had quite high rates into the eighties, whereas other states and territories had a significant drop in rates earlier. Since we don't know where in Australia Chase was born (at least I don't think we do; if that was ever mentioned, someone please let me know), I just went with the national trend. Also, I thought that since Rowan was a doctor, he would know that other than for religious reasons, circumcision is basically cosmetic surgery, hence unnecessary. In any case, I beg the indulgence of my Australian readers for any and all inaccuracies.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but the router for my wireless connection was fried, hence no internet! It has been replaced, and life has improved considerably. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

Ginsberg returned the next week for another meeting, and then went back to New York. He said there would be a lot of legal activity over an indeterminate period of time. He promised to keep House and Ann updated.

House was home for a couple of weeks, although he was in contact with his team on cases. They also stopped by when they needed to bring him test results or x-rays.

Ann worked from home, too. Her appetite was returning, and with it, a significant increase in her sex drive. They were having sex four or five times a day. She was so demanding, House actually felt the need to complain about it. He said was trying to convalesce and that Ann was exhausting him.

Ann felt badly about how she was treating House. She didn't want to wear him out, but she felt like she couldn't help herself. It was an intense physical craving. She wanted him twenty-four-seven. As soon as they finished having sex, she would bask in the afterglow for all of five minutes, and then she would want more.

In the meantime, there was still the matter of Ann getting pregnant. She counted the days from her last period and began doing the test a few days before she thought she would be ovulating. It was odd that the test was positive the first day. She assumed it was because of stress. Her period had been scant and it was certainly possible her cycle was messed up, too.

When she thought about it, she realized it really didn't matter when she was ovulating, since they were having so much sex. Ann figured their chances of conceiving were about as good as they could be, at least without outside assistance. Ann hoped this would work.

She and House had not discussed whether they would be willing to do any fertility treatments, but she had known co-workers who had gone that route and it was expensive and difficult. She wasn't sure how tolerant House would be to go through all that. She also wasn't sure if she wanted to do a lot of medical stuff. She'd had her fill of things medical after her attack. If a procedure was necessary for her health, she was willing to do it, but she didn't know if she'd want to do anything elective.

Easter was the second weekend of April and Ann had thought she would invite Tom and Sharon and Bob and Deidre. House vetoed that idea. He didn't mind them visiting, but he knew Ann was tired from taking care of him and he didn't want overnight guests wearing her out further. He also wondered how he would service Ann's sex drive with houseguests.

It turned out that it was helpful that they didn't visit. Ann had to travel to meet with her boss the week before Easter. She was concerned that she wouldn't be able to cook much for the holiday. Danielle stepped up and offered to make the food.

With that taken care of, she flew to California.

As she had promised, Ann called frequently. During every lunch hour and for all three nights, she and House had phone sex.

The day she was coming home, she called to confirm when he would be picking her up at the airport that evening. House was unable to take the call because he was in the clinic.

It was five-fifteen and House was done with patients for the day. He was sitting behind the desk in the lobby finishing the charting on his handheld. He knew he'd had a call from Ann, so he checked his voicemail.

Since there appeared to be no one else around, and since House was expecting a perfunctory "pick me up at the airport at whenever" call, he put the phone on the desk on speaker and played the message so he could continue charting.

"Hi, baby. I just wanted to confirm my flight with you. It's number 1713. It appears to be on time at the moment, so it gets in at seven-ten. I don't have any checked luggage so I should be waiting for you to pick me up by seven-thirty. I've missed you so much . . . "

Ann began to hum, and then she sang:

_The very thought of you  
I forget to do  
Those little ordinary things  
That everyone ought to do  
I'm livin' in a kind of a daydream  
I'm happy as a queen  
And foolish though it may seem  
To me that's everything  
The mere idea of you  
The longing here for you  
You'll never know  
How slow the moments go  
Till I'm near to you  
I see your face in every flower  
Your eyes in stars above  
It's just the thought of you,  
The very thought of you, my love_*

House looked up and noticed Cuddy standing on the other side of the desk. Since he'd been focused on his data entry and listening to the message, he had no idea how long she'd been standing there.

With the patient files computerized, she no longer had to bring him his cases. She simply e-mailed them to him. So, they'd barely spoken since he'd been a patient in the hospital the previous month. House wasn't sure how the lawsuit was impacting Cuddy and her job, other than knowing it couldn't be positive.

"What's that?" she demanded angrily.

House held up his hand to silence her and waited until Ann finished singing. He closed his eyes and listened to her beautiful voice. It was so full of passion and longing, for _him_.

_I see your face in every flower  
Your eyes in stars above  
It's just the thought of you,  
The very thought of you, my love_

House opened his eyes. "That's my significant other letting me know she misses me."

"Well, she shouldn't be using hospital telephones to do it. We have to pay for voicemail services and I don't want it clogged up with lengthy personal communications . . . "

"It's the voicemail on my cell, Cuddy," House interrupted her, holding up the I-phone that Ann had given him for Christmas.

Cuddy was too annoyed to back down. "Well, you shouldn't be spending time listening to that while you're working. I pay you a hefty salary and . . . "

House cut her off again, "First of all, it's five-fifteen and I'm off the clock. Second, didn't you tell me once you got me cheap? Which, by the way, was a very nice way for you to give me that ego boost I needed at the time. Third, it seems to me I've walked by your office after hours and you and Lucas have been laughing and looking at your computer and otherwise having a girly, giggling good time. Was it _hospital_ business you were conducting on your _hospita_l computer that got you and your significant other so happy and excited?"

Cuddy blushed. "Well, that was di-ff-er-ent," she stammered.

"Really?" House questioned with a skeptical tone, "How?"

"I'm your boss, House," Cuddy stated, raising her voice and trying to sound authoritative, "I don't have to justify my actions to you."

"True," House admitted, "But you do have to lead by example and be consistent in the standards that you apply. So, when you stop having your significant other in your office after hours for personal business using hospital computers, I'll stop listening after hours on my _personal_ cell phone to my significant other's messages. I'm done for today and I'm going to the airport to get Ann."

Cuddy was still fuming at him, so she was not going to back down. "So, she calls you 'Baby,' " Cuddy said in a mocking voice as she batted her eyes in an exaggerated manner.

"That's one of her terms of endearment for me." House stated. "What does Lucas call you when he's being affectionate? His bitch?"

House saved the charting on his device, stowed it and his phone in his backpack, pulled his backpack on to his shoulder, and grabbed his cane. He pushed past an open-mouthed-in-shock, boiling-to-the-point-of-fury Cuddy and headed to the main entrance. He got to his car, had it started and was on the road in seven minutes.

As he drove, he thought about his encounter with Cuddy. He probably shouldn't have argued with her. In spite of everything that had happened and the enormous distance between them now, she still had the ability to get under his skin. She couldn't really do anything to him, especially with the lawsuit pending, but he didn't need the aggravation, either.

Cuddy was a reminder of his old, miserable life. Ann was always urging him to look elsewhere for another job, or to go out on his own and become a consultant. Maybe she was right. All House knew was that he didn't want to spend the rest of his working life fighting with Cuddy. Back when he was lonely and he thought there was something between them, it had been fun. Well, most of the time. But now it was just painful and tiresome.

With rush hour traffic, he arrived at the airport at seven. He circled through until about 7:20, when he saw Ann waiting with her suitcase. He pulled up to the curb and got out to meet her.

"Hey, handsome," Ann exclaimed as she hurried towards him. She threw her arms around him and her lips crashed down on his. They enjoyed a lip lock for several minutes and finally came up for air. She covered his face in kisses. House happened to look over her shoulder and see a skycap standing nearby. He gave House a wink and a thumbs-up. It was obvious to pretty much everyone there that Ann had missed House and that he was going to get a little something when he got home.

In the past, that would have embarrassed him, but he had finally come to the point that he felt he had as much right to be happy as anyone else. And if everyone knew that, he was okay with it.

Actually, that wasn't completely true. He still tried to keep his private life separate from the people he worked with. He knew that his team, with the possible exception of Chase, didn't care one way or the other.

As the encounter earlier in the evening had demonstrated, Cuddy had become actively hostile. Waving his relationship with Ann in Cuddy's face could only lead to trouble, especially given the stress Cuddy was under with the lawsuit.

And House and Wilson had drifted apart. Wilson was so wrapped up in his own life, he was probably just relieved that House was no longer in his hair. House would have hoped Wilson would be happy with Sam, but he just couldn't delude himself. There was no way that wasn't going to end in disaster. At least he wouldn't have to be around to pick up the pieces this time.

"You okay?" Ann asked, as she noticed House drifting away for a minute.

"I'm fine," House insisted. "Just happy to see you."

"Good answer," Ann grinned. "Can we go home now?"

"Come on," he responded.

House helped Ann put her luggage in the back of the car and they drove off.

After they got on the highway, a small smile appeared on House's face.

"What?" Ann questioned.

"I'm just remembering your phone call earlier today," House replied, still grinning.

"You liked the song?" Ann asked.

"There's something about listening to the angelic voice of your significant other singing sweetly about how much she loves and misses you that just . . . "

"Just what?"

"Just makes your dick really hard."

Ann chuckled. "That's my romantic fella."

"Please don't call me 'fella.' It's so . . . so . . . _gay_."

"It could be mafia-ish."

"Huh?"

"As in 'Goodfellas,'"

"Not buying it."

"Well, then I'm sorry."

"Speaking of sorry, Cuddy heard you, too."

"How?"

"I was at the front desk of the clinic doing my charting and I thought everyone had left, so I put my phone on speaker. She walked by just in time to hear you singing."

"And she didn't have a positive reaction, right? "

"She tried to accuse me of misuse of hospital resources because she thought you left a voicemail on the hospital phone system. When that didn't work, she mocked the fact that you called me 'baby.' "

"That is one bitter woman."

"I know, and I should have just let it go . . . "

"But, let me guess, you couldn't."

"Nope."

"So, what did you say to her?"

"I told her that your calling me 'baby' was a term of endearment . . . "

"Okay so far."

"And then I suggested what term Lucas might use for her."

"Which was?"

"Calling her 'his bitch.' "

"Ouch."

"Too harsh?"

"I think it's fitting, but I'm concerned."

"Why?"

"We both know what Doctor Cuddy did when she thought she was forced to return to work because of you. And we also know what Lucas did when Wilson bought the condo out from under her."

"Which was way less sexy than it sounds. And what's your point?"

"Just that both Lucas and Doctor Cuddy are capable of violent acts, and, she's under a lot more pressure now than she was when they did all that stuff."

"I don't think she'd do anything with the lawsuit hanging over her head. It would just make things worse."

"Maybe. But that wouldn't stop _him_."

"Yeah, when it comes to that kind of stuff, he's not always the sharpest tool in the shed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everything he did at Wilson's condo was pretty clever. He even made it look like Wilson and I were pranking each other. But then when he tripped me, he did it at the hospital, in the cafeteria, no less. There were witnesses, even."

"That was more personal than the other stuff he did because it involved actual physical contact. And he wasn't going to do that without maximizing the humiliation. And he felt secure enough to do it because he was sleeping with the boss. What a creep. Her position is a lot more precarious now. I wonder if she would stop him this time."

"That assumes she would know about it beforehand."

"Well, she knew about this other stuff before he did it, didn't she?"

"I don't think so."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because a lot of it was outside the hospital, hence, outside her control. And she's smart enough to know that she couldn't fix that if someone decided to do something about it. The other condo owners could have pressed charges or sued for damages, for example. So, I think Cuddy would have stopped him if she knew."

"So we're dealing with a clever, vindictive psychopath who is protective of his embattled girlfriend and capable of doing all kinds of violent acts that she is unaware of."

"And then, in my only communication with her in the last month, I called her a bitch."

"Terrific."

"Sorry."

"I can't really criticize you about that, seeing as how I've said a few choice things to her myself. How worried should we be about this?"

"Not at all. If he's going to do something, there's not much we can do to stop it, so there's no point in worrying. It wouldn't hurt to keep our wits about us, though."

"Our own personal orange alert. How wonderful. But you don't think we have to be concerned about anything from her, right?"

"Again, it would just make things worse with the lawsuit, so I don't think so."

"Well, that's reassuring, I guess. We don't have to worry about your sociopath boss, just her psychopath boyfriend. God, what a pair those two are. They deserve each other."

"Yeah," House agreed. For some reason, at that moment, House remembered his own painful childhood, with a harsh, punitive father who didn't love him and a mother who wanted to keep peace at all costs, including denying the existence of abuse. Abuse of him, that is. "But the kid doesn't deserve it."

"Not exactly a healthy environment for a child, I agree."

They fell silent in the car for a while.

"How are you feeling?"

"I missed you, but I'm not pathetically jacking off by myself, if that's what you mean."

"So, phone sex makes it much more like a special, shared activity between two people who care deeply for one another?"

"Something like that. Actually, nothing like that. A hand job is a hand job, even if your significant other is on the line."

"True. I was really asking about your stomach and your leg pain."

"My stomach is fine, and my leg hasn't been bad since I left the hospital."

"So, your appointment with Shankar on Tuesday went well?"

"It would have been more fun in the City with you, but, other than that, it went fine. How are you feeling?"

"I'm a little tired from the flight and the time change, but I'm pretty good."

"Are you as horny as you were before you left?"

"Are you kidding? Four days without you and I'm climbing the walls. I hope I make it through the car ride home. "

"Woo, hoo! It's Christmas in April!"

Ann spent the remaining twenty minutes of the drive fondling House in more and more intimate places, and House spent the time trying to maintain his focus and not have an accident.

They started kissing each other passionately as soon as House pulled the car into the garage. They stumbled out of the car and clothing began to come off even before the overhead doors were completely closed.

Everything, including underwear, was gone by the time they made it into the hallway from the garage.

They stopped their passionate kissing for a moment while they caught their breath.

"Bedroom?" House asked, panting.

"Don 't . . . think . . . I can . . . make it . . . that far," Ann responded breathlessly.

"Right here," House growled as he turned her to face the wall.

He slid his rock hard cock along her dripping wet channel.

"God, you feel soo good," House exclaimed as he slammed his throbbing manhood into her.

Ann moaned in response, her body clutching at him. "Fuck me hard!" she demanded harshly.

House obliged, ramming into her again and again. He could feel her huge ass pressing into him and he squeezed it. She gasped in surprise and closed around him even tighter.

As his climax neared, what was left of his rational mind thought he should make sure that she came, too. He brought his hand between her body and the wall and found her clit. He stroked it until she came, shaking so hard on his cock it made him explode inside her. He had no idea how he remained standing.

After a few moments, as his senses returned, House braced himself for pain in his leg. It felt a little more sore than it had, but nothing he couldn't handle. He made a mental note to thank Shankar for the new meds.

House caught his breath as they rested together against the wall. He slowly became aware of Ann shaking. The rhythm felt like – oh shit – she was crying.

House pulled back, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she sobbed. "That . . . was the most . . . amazing . . . _fuck_ of my . . . entire . . . life . . . . "

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know!" She broke down in earnest now, her body racked with sobs so strong she was barely able to stand up.

House turned her around and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly and kissed her repeatedly on the top of the head.

After a few minutes, the more powerful sobs faded away. House wished he could have carried her to the bedroom, but, even with pain meds that worked, there was no way that was going to happen. The leg had too much muscle missing for him to do that.

So, he slowly led her down the hallway, their arms around each other.

Even as House maneuvered the two of them toward their room, his mind was in full diagnostic mode. Ann didn't cry very often, and certainly not as intensely as this.

He had seen her weep when she was happy or deeply moved, but this was not that kind of sex. It was fast, furious and almost totally animalistic. But, fantastic as it was, hardly the kind of sex that caused deep feelings to surface.

So, why the hell was she so emotional? As they crossed the threshold of the bedroom, House paused and stared into the distance.

Ann had stopped crying and was settling down. She was aware that he wasn't walking anymore.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a soft voice. "Did all that hurt your leg?"

"Leg's fine."

"What is it then?"

"Nothing."

House brought her over to the bed and had her sit down. She was pulling back the covers and was getting in as he headed to the bathroom.

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

"Gotta pee, be right back."

He went into their bathroom and closed the door. He looked under the vanity. He really didn't want to have to get dressed and drive to the twenty-four hour drugstore at this time of night, but might not have a choice.

After a couple of minutes of rummaging around, he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out from under the sink and put it in a side drawer, near the front, easily accessible but not visible right now. He didn't want Ann to see it if she got up during the night to use the toilet. He was going to have her use it in the morning.

He decided while he was there that he should probably pee, like he'd told her he was going to. He finished and washed his hands.

He went back into the bedroom. House hoped Ann was asleep.

"That was a really long pee," Ann observed as he got into bed and pulled up the blankets.

"Bashful bladder," House said, thinking quickly.

"Since when have you had that?"

"Not until recently. I'm old enough that it could be my prostate."

"Make sure you get that checked out . . . " Ann said softly. They were holding each other and she was drifting off to sleep. "Don't want it to interfere with our getting pregnant."

"Okay."

House smiled as she was pulled under into sleep. Even as tired as he was, he didn't know if he would get much rest tonight. He could hardly wait until the morning.

*Ray Noble

* * *

A/N: I think the time line in this chapter is a little iffy, I'm sorry to say, but with my internet access problems ( see note above about the dead router), I didn't have the chance to pull up a 2011 calendar and figure it out. That, and I'm just too damn busy right now. So, just pretend it works, okay?


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

A/N: Time to finally find out what's wrong with Ann. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs

House did manage to fall asleep, but it was fitful. Ann was tired, and she slept soundly.

She didn't have to go to work. House had more clinic duty, so he was expected to get to work by nine. He was going to try to be on time—he figured that Cuddy would be in no mood to indulge him after what he'd said to her the previous evening.

So, he got up and showered. He made a point of getting dressed in the bedroom and making as much noise as possible, hoping it would wake up Ann. When that didn't work, he decided to make her breakfast in bed. It was nothing elaborate – just coffee and a bagel – because he didn't want to be out of the room too long and miss it if she got up to use the bathroom.

Luckily, Ann was still in bed when he brought the tray into the bedroom. She was sleeping, so he would have to wake her. House put the tray on the bedside table.

Normally, he got her awake by feeling up her ass. Without even consciously thinking about it, he started to gently caress her belly instead.

"Morning, baby," she said softly. House couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked when she first woke up, with her tousled hair and sleepy eyes. Hell, who was he kidding? She could have had a splotchy face, a raging fever with her hair plastered down by sweat and puking her guts out in the toilet, and she'd still look beautiful to him.

"Morning," House acknowledged. "I brought you breakfast."

"Thank you. I have to pee first."

Ann sat up and moved to get out of bed.

"I'm going with you," House insisted.

"Greg," Ann stated, "I appreciate the thought, but I've been doing this by myself for over thirty years. I think I can handle it."

Ann was amazed at how quickly House moved across the bedroom. He actually beat her to the bathroom. When she got there, he was pulling a box out of the drawer.

"Use this."

Ann recognized the packaging and the object that came out of it. "Greg, what's the point? Those test kits are too expense to waste."

"Humor me, okay?"

"O-_kay_."

House handed her the stick and Ann peed on it. She put it on a tissue on the vanity.

"This is a waste of time, you know. I'm not pregnant."

"We'll see."

Ann wiped herself and washed her hands while House kept time with his watch. When the correct interval had passed, they looked at the test stick.

Ann cried out, "But that's not possible!"

"Sure it is."

"But, I had my period."

"You had some spotting, which is not uncommon very early in a pregnancy."

"The ovulation test was positive."

"These over-the-counter kits aren't very precise. They can't tell the difference between LH, which is at a high level when you ovulate, and hCG, which is at a high level when you're pregnant."

"How did you know to give me the test?"

"You had the symptoms: nausea, fatigue, increased sex drive, lack of menses, mood swings. It fit."

"Wow. So I'm pregnant."

"It would appear so."

"You were talking about my lack of appetite and the spotting. That was almost a month ago. How far along do you think I am?"

"Hard to say exactly, but I'd guess between six and eight weeks."

"Greg, I don't know what to say."

"The thought of carrying my spawn is probably a little scary. Okay, a lot scary."

"It' no such thing! It's amazing and wonderful and . . . and . . . " Ann stammered as her eyes began to fill up.

"Here come the water works," House observed in mock irritation. "I suppose I better get used to seeing that – all those hormones."

"Oh, shut up," Ann smiled, hitting him lightly in the chest. "So, do you want to, um, celebrate?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Since House had to get to work, they didn't have time for a long, slow, tender encounter like they would have wanted, so they settled for a quickie, with the promise of more that night. House would have preferred not getting out of bed all weekend, but it was the holiday and they had invited Chase and Danielle over. House wanted to cancel until Ann reminded him that Danielle was going to be cooking a lot of food. So, they'd have to confine their activities to Saturday and to Sunday night.

They also had to make a decision about whom to tell when. Ann was practically bursting to tell her family – Tom and Sharon, Bob and Deirdre and Danielle. House was okay with the first four people on the list, but he wasn't so sure about Danielle. He knew it was important for Ann to tell her "sister," but House didn't see how she could do that without Chase finding out.

House decided he was indifferent to Chase knowing (or at least he tried to convince himself that it didn't matter), but he didn't want the news spreading all over the hospital. Part of it was that he liked his privacy, and he didn't want his life to be fodder for the hospital grapevine yet again.

But, the more important reason was Cuddy. She was already on the warpath. House didn't know how she would react to this news, other than knowing that Cuddy wouldn't be organizing a baby shower.

Ann convinced House that they should tell Danielle and Chase, with the caveat that Chase not spread it all over the hospital for now. House was still dubious because knew that Chase wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to make some money with a pool. Chase wouldn't be able to do that until it got closer to Ann's due date, anyway. So, he decided it was okay to let Chase in on the news.

House didn't say anything to Ann, but he was also aware that there was still a risk for a miscarriage, at least for the next few weeks. If that happened, House was sure she would need support from her family, and from Danielle in particular, since she was here in Princeton. So that was another reason to tell Danielle, hence, Chase.

They decided that they would tell everyone on Easter. House thought it was particularly fitting, since many Easter symbols, like young animals and eggs, were rooted in pagan fertility practices.

As they promised each other that morning, they decided to have their own festivities on Friday night. When House came home, he found two place settings, lighted candles and a pitcher of sparkling water on the dining room table.

It was reminiscent of the celebration they had for Ann's birthday. At least all that effort was noticed and didn't go to waste. Not that he hadn't gotten some great sex out of it. Which was the only reason he'd done it. Really.

"It's my baby daddy!" Ann yelled as House entered the kitchen.

"If you call me that in front of anyone, and I mean _anyone_," House threatened, "I'll . . . "

"You'll what?"

"I'll withhold sex for a month!"

"Like you could do that."

"As a hormone-crazed, sexually desperate pregnant woman, I wouldn't think you'd want to test me on that. Remember, I went years without it before I met you."

"What about all those hookers you hired that everyone at Princeton-Plainsboro told me about?" Ann teased.

"There were never that many, or, at least not as many as I led people to believe," House admitted quietly.

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"Having sex with someone you don't know and paying them for it."

"About as empty and meaningless as it sounds."

"Then why do it?"

"To take care of the necessity for physical release."

"Can't you just masturbate?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes you just need . . . "

"What?"

"Human contact."

"It's kind of superficial contact, isn't it?"

"Not if . . . "

"Not if what?"

"This is going to sound lame."

"Just tell me."

"Not if you pretend, um, that it's more."

"I don't understand - you mean like role-playing? What roles did you play?"

"There were never any costumes or anything, if that's what you mean."

"Well, then what did you pretend?"

"This is getting really embarrassing."

"Please tell me."

"Okay, I'd imagine that the woman and I were together."

"I don't understand."

"That we were, you know, a couple."

"You mean that you were in a relationship with her?"

"Something like that."

"That's not lame at all."

"Let me rephrase. It's pathetic."

"No it's not. It's a way to cope with loneliness. That's not so terrible."

"Other than the fact that it has the opposite effect."

"What do you mean?"

"While you're pretending, it's fine. In fact, depending on the woman, it's actually pretty good. The problem is when you pay her and she leaves. Then you realize you have been fooling yourself and you crash. You feel sort of a combination of pain and emptiness . . . "

Ann crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms tightly around House. "No more of that for you," she said fiercely. "No more loneliness."

House breathed a heavy sigh and embraced her in response. They stood in the kitchen holding each other for a while. She pulled her head back and looked at him.

"Once the baby is born," Ann noted wryly, "We'll never be alone again."

"Assuming the kid doesn't wind up hating our guts, like we did our parents," House observed. "Hey, speaking of them, do you mind if I tell my Mom?"

"The sooner, the better, I would think."

"Are you going to tell your mom and your brother?"

"I've been considering that," Ann replied. "I suppose it won't be ugly or anything, simply because they can't muster the enthusiasm to care. I can hear the phone conversation now - 'Hi, how are you? You're in a relationship and you're pregnant? Oh, okay. Have a nice day.' "

"Which will be its own kind of pain," House remarked.

"Yeah," Ann agreed. "If I don't hear from them for their obligatory holiday call by Sunday night, I could call them . . . "

"Just let me know, so I can brace myself for Zombie Ann."

"I'll try not to react that way again."

"It doesn't matter, just as long as I know to expect it."

"And that it isn't about you." Ann stated as she pulled House closer to her again and began rubbing her the sides of her face against his chest. "Don't ever forget I love you."

"Isn't that a song lyric?"

"Probably, in about five hundred songs."

"Before you start singing all of them, can we eat?" House whined.

Ann reluctantly let go of House and directed him to the dining room. She brought dinner a few moments later. It was the perfect light spring meal - salmon en papillote with dill, lemon and asparagus on a bed of couscous. It made House happy because it was delicious, and he knew the preparation was easy enough that Ann didn't spend hours making it.

Now that he was through his most recent medical crisis, he was going to have to keep an eye on Ann. He knew she had the tendency to push herself too hard, and that wouldn't work for a pregnant woman. So, after they were finished with dinner, he helped her clean up, telling himself it was because he didn't want her too tired for sex.

It was still tough for him to admit to himself that he cared enough about another human being to want to take care of her. He'd been terribly hurt by the people he'd loved before her, and it made him reluctant to make himself that vulnerable. Even though he was pretty sure Ann wouldn't leave him for any reason other than death, he still had doubts. Things like infarctions could come out of nowhere and break relationships apart.

His brooding was interrupted by Ann taking him by the hand and leading him to the bedroom.

"I've been waiting for this all day," she purred. She began by pushing off House's button down. It unceremoniously hit the floor.

"Hey," House exclaimed, "My shirt!"

"What, are you afraid it's going to get _wrinkled_?" Ann asked in a mocking voice. Even with all the changes he had made in the last two years, he still couldn't be bothered to iron his clothes.

"It's my favorite shirt," he protested.

"Hey, I stepped over it," Ann teased. She had her hands on the bottom of House's tee shirt and she pulled it over his head in a flash. She tossed it on top of the button-down.

"Ooo," Ann cooed as she ran her hands over House's bare, beautifully muscled chest and abdomen. "There's my gorgeous, potent stud."

All thoughts of protesting the cavalier treatment of his clothing left his head when Ann ran her hands just under the waistband of his jeans and boxers, starting at the top of his backside and moving around to the front, stopping to caress his hip bones.

"Umm," House murmured. As much as his father had tried to "toughen" him up with physical abuse, and as much as House himself had tried to avoid human contact for so long, he was still open to the pleasure of being touched. It sent the most delicious hum through his entire body.

Recognizing how tender House was in this particular spot, Ann used the gentlest of touches. She loved how he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensations he was experiencing. It not only pleased her to please him, it made her admire his courage in being able to leave himself open like this after everything he had suffered.

Not letting go of his hips, she steered him over to the bed and eased him down. She removed his pants, socks and underwear.

As House lay before her naked on the bed, something surged inside her. He was so beautiful and sexy. And there was even more. His eyes were now open and he was watching her. His expression was one of curiosity and something else. It reminded her of a little boy seeking approval and affection. An ache filled her as she realized this was quite possibly the first relationship in his life that he felt safe enough to do this.

At that moment, she made a vow to herself. As long as she lived, she would make sure that he always felt this way with her. That her mind and body and spirit would be what he sought when he felt sad or hurt or happy. That being with her would be the place he had always looked for and finally found. She would be his home.

"Are you okay?" House asked softly as he saw Ann drifting away.

"I'm fantastic," she replied. "I was realizing how very, very much I love you." Ann's hands began touching more of his tender places – his waist, the inside of his arms, his nipples.

"You mean you didn't know before?"

Ann looked into his eyes and saw that little boy again. "Oh, baby" she uttered softly as she stopped caressing him. She kneeled on the bed and slid one arm under his back. She pulled him towards her and put her other hand behind his head, lacing her fingers through his hair. She held the side of his face next to hers and slowly rocked him.

At first, House didn't know how to react. Things had started out hot, which was fine with him. But, somewhere along the way, it had become emotional. Deeply emotional. Right now, he couldn't quite understand what was happening. Ann was holding him in her arms and rocking him, like . . . like he was a young child.

The part of House that was trained from an early age to despise weakness, the part that had had that lesson reinforced by every relationship he ever had, should have been disgusted by this behavior. He should have been pushing her away. But he didn't. And, not only didn't he do that, but he found his arms around her. Tightly around her. He was, for want of a better word, clinging to her. He was greedily taking every last bit of tenderness and affection she was offering.

They remained like that for a while, until Ann gently eased him back down on the bed. She sighed as she got up and removed her own clothes. Ann lay down beside him on the bed. Without thinking, House put his hands on her abdomen and began caressing her.

After a few moments, he paused. Ann took this as her signal, apparently, because she was all over him, her hands touching him everywhere and her mouth on every part of him. God, how did she do this to him? She made him feel something – something really good—in almost every nerve ending in his body. And, of course, his emotions were still at their peak because of what had happened earlier. Every part of him felt intensely loved, and they hadn't even had sex yet.

Ann made sure to remedy that. Almost as soon as he had the thought, she was climbing on top of him and easing him into her soaking wet pussy. House felt a jolt of intense pleasure that filled him up.

Ann began to move very slowly up and down. House wanted her to go faster, but he resisted that feeling and let Ann set the pace. As she continued, the tension and the emotion began to build. It was deliciously slow.

House's hands reached up to softly caress her breasts and lightly touch her nipples. He wondered how they would look and taste when they were engorged with milk. Her breasts would be even bigger, no doubt, and even more sensitive.

His hands found their way back to her belly. House didn't understand why he felt such a strong need to touch her there. She wasn't close to showing yet and the fetus wouldn't be big enough for them to feel it moving for at least a couple of months. Was this a sign that he'd want, no, need, to touch their child once it was born? He simply didn't know the answer to that question.

House felt himself straining under Ann. His orgasm was close. Judging by the look on Ann's face, so was hers. When their release finally came, it was prolonged and intense. Both House and Ann felt pleasure radiating through their entire bodies.

She collapsed next to him on the bed. They held each other, and they pulled the blankets over themselves. Their recovery was slow.

As they lay in each other's arms, House realized that this act of connection was how their child had been created. Whether or not they ever married, their child would be a love child in the purest sense of the word – coming from the love his or her parents had for each other. And this child would be raised in a home where its parents cared deeply for one another.

House didn't know if he could be a good parent. He still doubted he could even achieve mediocrity at parenthood. What he did know was that Ann would be good at it. Hell, she was going to be great. All he really had to do was to be there and not screw up too much. And he realized that if the kid were at all like Ann (and the laws of genetics said it had to be), he might even be able to love it because he loved Ann.

Like he had so many nights before with Ann, House felt hopeful as he fell asleep. Maybe at least a little happiness wasn't impossible, after all.


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.

Saturday was spent in bed, for the most part, except for a small amount of cooking and a decent amount of cleaning. House hated to spend the money, but he had decided he wanted to hire a cleaning service.

He thought Ann might fight him on it, and she did.

"I don't need help with cleaning," Ann insisted. "I'm pregnant, not sick."

"I don't want our spawn to be exposed to cleaning chemicals," House countered. "They can be toxic."

"You know that I use only 'green' products."

"Cyanide and arsenic are naturally occurring. That doesn't make them healthy, especially to an embryo."

"I just don't want someone in here touching our things."

"Since when do you care about that? I'm the one who's particular about my stuff, not you."

"Well, you know they aren't going to do as good a job as I would."

"Aha!"

"What 'aha!'?"

"This is about your need for control, isn't it?"

"I don't need control. I'm just particular."

"Particular, my ass. You can't stand the idea that someone wouldn't do it the way you want it to be done."

"Let's face it, no one is going to clean your place the way you would. They don't live here, so they're not going to care as much."

"Well, you're a consultant. You don't have to live with the computer systems you design. But it seems to me you care an awful lot about them."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Well, I design systems for hospitals – workplaces. This cleaning service is coming into our _home_."

There was a pause.

"You mean, like a rapist could?" House questioned gently.

Ann refused to look at House.

"I know how important it is for you to feel secure in your home, and I don't want this to become a huge thing. I just don't want you to push yourself."

"And if I promise I won't?"

"Let's just say that I'm dubious about that promise."

"Why is this so important to you, anyway? It's not like you really care if the house is clean."

"I told you. I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"There's something else, too."

It was House's turn to look away.

"Please tell me why this matters so much."

"It seems like the least I can do . . . "

"The least?"

"Yeah. If I were, um, if I could, I'd do it for you. But I can't."

Well, there it was. Another façade House had maintained for years crumbled. He had spent a lot of time convincing everyone that it didn't matter to him if his surroundings were neat. It was better that people think he chose to be a lazy slob rather than know he just wasn't physically able to do cleaning.

"I know you can't do it," Ann responded. "You're a very important and a very busy man. You have lives to save. You can't waste your valuable time scrubbing toilets."

House looked directly into Ann's eyes. Her expression told him that she knew he was talking about being handicapped, but that she was simply not going to acknowledge that. It was another of those fig leaves for his dignity that she was so good at providing.

"So, since you're pregnant and since I'm so, um, _busy_, can we hire a maid service?"

"As long as I get to investigate them first."

"To make sure they meet your _cleanliness_ standards," House stated, offering a fig leave of his own to her.

"Okay," Ann agreed.

With that settled, they went back to having sex.

On Sunday morning, they woke up and had a light breakfast. Ann called Tom and Sharon first, and then Bob and Deidre. Much to House's chagrin, there was a lot of squealing in excitement and happy tears.

He thought he would wear out his ocular muscles with all the eye-rolling he was doing. Of course, he was secretly okay with it, for the most part. It was good for Ann's well-being (hence, the spawn's) to know that the people she cared about were happy for her.

It did make House a little envious, though. Most of the people he had considered important in his life had never been happy for him, no matter what he did.

Ann told them that she was going to tell Danielle that afternoon, and she asked them not to contact Danielle until she did. Tom insisted on visiting the next weekend and Bob planned to visit the weekend after that.

House called his mom next.

"Happy Easter," Blythe told him.

"Same to you, Mom. Listen, I have some news."

"Is everything okay, Greg?"

"Yeah, it's, um, yeah . . ."

"How is Ann? Oh, Greg, you're not trying to tell me she left you, are you?"

"She's right here, Mom. She's not going anywhere." House attempted to hide the irritation in his voice, but he was largely unsuccessful. In spite of every success he'd ever had, why did everyone always believe he'd screwed up? That attitude towards him was wearing very thin at this point in his life.

"Is your health all right?" Blythe asked with concern in her voice. "Is your stomach giving you trouble again?"

"My stomach is fine, Mom. I wanted to tell you – "

"You haven't relapsed into using drugs again, have you, Greg?"

"I'm taking the drugs my doctor prescribed for my pain. In the prescribed amounts, I might add. Will you just let me get a word in?"

"I'm sorry for expressing my concern," Blythe sniffed, although she hardly sounded sorry at all. "Why did you call me, then?"

"Ann is, um, . . . "

"She's not sick, is she?"

"Mom, please let me get this out. Ann is pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Blythe asked, stunned. "With your child?"

"No, Mom. It might be from that alien abduction earlier this year, or it could have been from that wild fling with Tiger. Do you think he has enough money left that we should bother filing a paternity suit?"

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Gregory House. I'm surprised by this. You're almost fifty-two years old, you know. Forgive me if I gave up on the idea of grandchildren."

"Thanks for reminding me of my advancing age."

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. When is the baby due?"

"We think Ann is about six to eight weeks pregnant, so it should be born sometime in November."

"Don't call the baby 'it,' Greg. That's your child."

"I know, Mom. We just don't know what it, I mean, what sex the embryo is yet, that's all."

"If only your father had lived to see this."

"Don't go there, Mom."

"I told you that the war is over, Greg."

"Only because one of the combatants died. If he were still alive, this would be World War II. Actually, the Cold War is probably a better metaphor."

"Don't be irreverent about his death."

"Hey, you brought it up."

"Well, I am pleased for you, dear. Give my best wishes to Ann."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll call you as things, um, progress."

"I expect you to."

"Bye."

Ann had been sitting quietly next to him, listening to his half of the conversation. "How did it go?"

"Okay I guess. I just assumed she'd be . . . "

"What?"

"Happier."

"Well, it is a bit of a shock for her. Maybe she will be, once everything sinks in."

"Maybe. It's just . . ."

"What?"

"Well, everyone you called seemed really excited."

"Wait until I talk to my mother and Joe. Their lack of enthusiasm will be overwhelming."

Danielle and Chase arrived around one. As Ann had warned House, Danielle had made a lot of food. And none of it could be called "light" fare – borscht, golumpkies, kielbasa cooked over sauerkraut, and pierogies with potato filling. House thought that he was going to get a hernia just carrying it into the kitchen.

It did turn out to be delicious. And the good news was that none of them would be hungry until at least Wednesday.

After the meal was cleaned up, it was time for The Announcement.

"We have some news," Ann began, "But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"You're pregnant," Chase stated matter-of-factly.

"How did you know?" House asked with an air of suspicion.

"Let's see: a woman in her thirties who has a lack of appetite, fatigue, moodiness, increased sex drive and lack of menses," Chase listed the symptoms. "I'm guessing most third-year med students wouldn't have a hard time figuring that out."

"You observed her lack of appetite, fatigue and moodiness when I was in the hospital," House noted, intrigued. "How did you know about the rest of her symptoms?"

"Pillow talk," Chase replied.

Danielle, of course, had practically flown across the room, and was proceeding to smother Ann in hugs and kisses. They were both weeping and sniffling.

As House and Chase observed them, House sneered, "Can I have a hug?" in his snarkiest voice.

"Sure," Chase replied, as he quickly moved close to House and put his arms around him.

"That was sarcasm, you idiot," House growled, although he didn't push Chase away. They stayed like that for a moment.

"You can let go now," House stated impatiently, when it appeared that Chase wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Chase planted a kiss on House's cheek just before he stepped quickly away, thus avoiding any physical retaliation from House. House did manage to give Chase a look that was potentially lethal. Chase responded by grinning.

Ann observed the two men from across the room. At least someone who mattered to House was having a positive reaction. Ann was about to say something and then she thought better of it. She knew House loved Chase, but the last thing he would want was to be publicly called on it.

"When are you going to see your doctor?" Danielle inquired.

"I made an appointment for Tuesday," Ann replied. "I'm not looking forward to that."

"This is good news, isn't it?" Danielle asked, sounding puzzled. "Why are you dreading it?"

"Let me guess," House interjected. "Your OB/GYN is at Princeton Plainsboro, and you're not looking forward to a possible encounter with Cuddy."

"Bingo," Ann said.

"Could you get another doctor?" Danielle offered helpfully.

"I could," Ann conceded, "But that would be letting her win."

"My experience tells me that discretion is the better part of valor," Chase added.

"Thank you, William Wallace," House responded sarcastically. "The appointment is at one, right? I'll meet you in the lobby, go with you, and protect you from The Evil One."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble, too."

"It's about ten years too late for that. Besides, I don't think she wants to make our case stronger by coming after me."

"How's that going?" Danielle asked.

"It's slow," Ann answered. "But the attorney says he hasn't had anything thrown out yet, so that's a good sign."

Danielle and Chase left at around six. Ann did some work for a while, and puttered around emptying the dishwasher and cleaning up a little more in the kitchen. She finally joined House in the living room.

"TV sucks even worse on Easter than it does on Christmas," House observed. "All this religious crap."

"It isn't exactly an atheist's holiday, that's for sure," Ann agreed.

"At least at Christmas, there's some funny stuff on."

"It's tough to make crucifixion humorous."

" 'Life of Brian' was pretty amusing."

Ann began to sing:

_Some things in life are bad  
They can really make you mad  
Other things just make you swear and curse.  
When you're chewing on life's gristle  
Don't grumble, give a whistle  
And this'll help things turn out for the best . . ._

_And . . . always look on the bright side of life . . .  
Always look on the light side of life . . . _

Then, a deep baritone joined the lilting soprano:

_If life seems jolly rotten  
There's something you've forgotten  
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.  
When you're feeling in the dumps  
Don't be silly chumps  
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing._

_And . . . always look on the bright side of life . . .  
Always look on the light side of life . . . _*

As if on cue, the song was interrupted by her cell ringing.

"It's the obligatory holiday call," she informed House as she looked at the number. "I'm putting this on speaker so I can introduce you."

House braced himself.

"Hello," she began the call.

"Hello, Ann," a woman's voice responded. "How are you?"

"I'm really good, Mom. How are you?"

"Fine."

"Listen, Mom. I have something to tell you."

"We called late, so I don't want to make this a lengthy call."

"It's important, Mom."

"What is it?"

"I met someone."

"Oh?"

"Yes, his name is Greg House and he's here with me on speaker."

"Hi," House said, sounding utterly lame to himself.

"Hello. Is that it?"

"Don't you want to hear about him, Mom?"

"Um, yes, sure . . . "

"I met him when I was working at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital last summer. He's a world-famous diagnostician."

"Really? I've been having this persistent cough and none of my doctors - "

"Mom, I'm not done yet."

"Oh, okay."

"Anyway, Greg and I have been a couple for about ten months. We moved in together in January, and I'm pregnant."

"Well, what do I say here? Congratulations? Is that appropriate?"

"You could perhaps be a little enthusiastic about your grandchild."

"Well, it is good news, I guess. Would you like to talk to your brother now?"

"Sure, Mom." House could hear the resignation in her voice.

There was some talking in the background as the receiver was being handed off.

"Hey, Ann," A male voice greeted them. "I understand you have some stuff going on . . . "

"It's not just 'stuff' Joe," Ann insisted. "I'm experiencing some life-altering events here."

"Um, yeah, I guess. Are you getting married or anything?"

"Yes, we are getting married," House jumped in. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he had no idea why he said them. Ann gave him the strangest look.

"Oh," Joe replied. "Um, Greg, isn't it?"

"Yes," House responded.

"Well, that seems like a good idea," Joe stated, "Especially with a kid involved. Let us know when you get hitched, if you remember to. Happy Easter."

"Same to you, Joe."

"Talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye."

The cell phone said the call had ended.

House didn't really want to deal with what he had said, so he tried to deflect. "Wow, I've heard more emotion from patients who were prescribed too much haldol. Are you all right?"

"They're not exactly emotional, at least when it comes to me. I'm okay. I'm used to it by now. But, what's this about us getting married?"

"Well, um . . . "

"Were you just saying that to get some reaction out of my brother, or did you mean it?"

"Logically, if we're going to have a baby, it would make legal sense for us to get married, I think."

"Yeah, because taking a leap of faith that you'll love one person for the rest of your life is all about the _logic_."

There was a pause as Ann looked pensive and House looked down at the floor.

Ann spoke first, "If you don't want – "

"I _do_ want."

"What, exactly?"

"I want you around. I want you in my bed with me every night. I want us to raise this kid together. I want you to be here after the kid is grown and gone. I'm selfish enough to want you with me when I can't do things for myself any more . . ."

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health – something like that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Gregory House, will you marry me?"

"Hey, that was my idea!"

"So, I borrowed it. Yes or no?"

"Yes."

There was a pause as they both contemplated what they had just agreed to.

For someone who had been divorced once already, Ann showed little sign of hesitation. She just knew that she felt completely differently than she had when she was with Kevin. There was no doubt. She loved House with everything she had and she couldn't imagine her life without him. Marrying him was, in a way, a formality. It was a public declaration of what she felt. Of what she would always feel for as long as she lived.

House was surprised he had even broached the subject, let alone agreed so readily. He'd lived with Stacy for five years and he never once considered marrying her. Things had been good with Stacy before the infarction – fun and challenging and lots of really good sex.

It was different with Ann. Sure, it was also fun and challenging and the sex was as good or better, but there was something else. There was warmth and comfort and acceptance. For the first and only time in his life, there was someone who loved him, not in spite of who he was, but because of it.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Annie."

They were on each other's lips before either of them knew it. And in bed enjoying each other's bodies not long after that.

When they were finished and holding each other, they resumed their conversation.

"So, do you want to get married before or after you have the baby?"

"You might have to do paperwork after to be recognized legally as the baby's father, so it's probably easier before."

"I assume this is something you're going to want to plan, which means it won't happen right away. Are you sure you won't mind looking pregnant in your wedding pictures?"

"This isn't going to be a huge event, since neither of us has a long guest list. I don't think it will take a huge amount of planning. But, then again, I would like it to be memorable, so that could take some time, I guess."

"So, will it bother you to waddle down the aisle?"

"I already had the wedding where I looked like 'the perfect bride.' Or, at least as close as I could come to it. And we know how that marriage worked out. I don't need a repeat of that." She started to smile. "I really like the idea of being visibly pregnant with the child of the man I love when I marry him."

"It does have that Poor White Trash feel to it, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. Not to mention, in our case at least, it happens to be the perfect expression of love."

Even though he secretly agreed, House knew he couldn't possibly respond to what she had said without a cynical comment making its way out of his mouth. So, he simply looked at Ann, not even consciously aware that every feeling he had for her was on display on his face.

Ann reached up to cradle his cheek while her thumb lightly stroked his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. He still wasn't sure what happy was, but, he was guessing, this was pretty damn close.

*Eric Idle

* * *

A/N: There was a lot going on in this chapter, more than I originally planned, but my muse wanted it, and what the muse wants, she gets. Anyway, I hope it wasn't too rushed.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.

Ann went to see her gynecologist that Tuesday. The doctor did the obligatory bloodwork and confirmed that she was pregnant. He also estimated Ann was about eight weeks, and told her the baby's due date was mid-November.

They had decided it would look odd if House went with her to the office, since most women didn't have their significant others join them for routine gynecological appointments. So, House hovered around outside, making sure that Cuddy didn't burst in under some false hospital administrator pretense. It turned out Ann didn't need House to protect her, since Cuddy was in a board meeting for most of the day.

House was disappointed that he couldn't be with Ann, which he realized was a rather ridiculous way to feel. It wasn't like it was an ultrasound where they would see the baby or an amnio where she might need his support. It was just an appointment confirming what they already knew. Still, it bothered him that he didn't get to see the look on her face when she was "officially" pronounced pregnant.

To console himself, House surprised Ann by booking a suite at a local luxury hotel. They ordered room service for lunch and spent the afternoon lying in bed together, naked, having sex and talking about the future. When he thought about it later, House decided it easily made his list of the top ten afternoons of his life.

Tom visited the next weekend, as promised. And Bob, the weekend after that.

House, with Ann's approval, hired a cleaning service. They were insured and bonded, and Ann thought their work was acceptable.

Things settled into a routine, with Ann working mostly from home and doing wedding planning, while House, as always, worked his cases and did clinic duty.

Despite their elaborate precautions, it somehow became known around the hospital that Ann was pregnant. Chase swore up and down that he hadn't told anyone, and since House couldn't prove that he did, he was forced to let it go. Surprisingly, most people seemed to be happy for him. House assumed it was because Ann had been so popular that he was merely the recipient of some residual positive feelings for her.

Like the winter, spring was unusually cold. House had his pain meds to get him through the days and Ann to get him through the nights. The weather finally started to warm up the first week of May.

* * *

It was a Monday. House had left for work. Ann put flank steak, peppers, onion, garlic, broth, tomato sauce and spices in the crock pot to make Ropa Vieja. She was cleaning up the kitchen and thinking about the shower sex they had earlier. It had been intense and extremely satisfying.

She got dressed, headed to the living room and got to work on her laptop. After a few hours, her cell phone rang.

She assumed it was House, either between tests on a patient or bored with clinic duty and calling to check what she was wearing. She wasn't big enough for maternity clothes just yet, but her current wardrobe was starting to get tight. House told her that he found her increasing breast and ass size incredibly hot. Without checking the number, she answered it.

"Hello," she said when she didn't hear him immediately launch into a lecherous dissertation.

"Hello, bitch," the voice on the other end sneered evilly. Ann froze in place.

"How's my drunk little whore today, huh?" the ugly voice continued. "Do you miss me all the way down there in New Jersey?"

Ann had all she could do to keep from shaking with fear. It had taken a few moments, but she recognized the voice on the other end. It was one of the men who raped her.

"Speaking of going down, I'm not hearing you saying anything," the taunting voice continued. "You can't talk because someone else is making you drown in cum, huh?"

Ann shuddered at the memory. She became aware that her heart was pounding in her ears.

"How's your asshole, whore?" he continued. "We tore you up pretty bad. Is it all healed up and tight again? Not much longer until I get out of here, bitch. Time for us to come down to Princeton and open you up again. I sharpen up my shank every day and think of fucking and slicing up that hole again. And this time, I'll just keep cutting."

Ann dropped the phone and ran into the bathroom. She vomited her breakfast, and what was left of the previous night's dinner. Then she got the dry heaves.

When that was over, she sat next to the toilet. They were getting out. And they knew she was in Princeton. And now she was pregnant. If she couldn't even protect herself, how could she protect the baby? She began to sob.

* * *

It was a tedious morning for House in the clinic. He didn't even have the usual morons to mock. Had everyone in the State of New Jersey suddenly had an attack of common sense? He seriously doubted that. It was more likely a lull in the idiocy. Whatever the reason, he was bored out of his mind. He decided to call Ann.

He wasn't concerned when she didn't pick up on the landline. If she were deep into her work, she had a tendency not to hear it until it rang several times. She would then run to get it before the answering machine picked up. House had asked her to stop doing that now that she was pregnant. Although she was actually quite graceful, the last thing he wanted was for her to trip and fall trying to get to a phone call that most likely wasn't important, anyway.

So, he called her cell. If it had gone directly into her voicemail, he would have assumed she was on the line and not thought further about it. But, it didn't. It rang several times and Ann didn't pick up. It was possible she had taken a break and didn't bring the cell to the bathroom with her.

When he called her cell fifteen minutes later and the same thing happened, he was starting to get concerned. He thought he was probably just being paranoid, but she was not quite past the miscarriage point. So he decided, since it was close to lunch time, that he would go and see what was up.

He sped home on his motorcycle. When he walked into the house, he expected to find her engrossed in her work. He was surprised when he stood at the entrance to the living room and saw her laptop and not her. He also noticed that her cell looked like it had been dropped on the floor. An alarm bell went off in his head.

House moved toward the bathroom. He quickened his pace when he heard her crying. As he reached the door, she saw him. She jumped up and flung her arms around him.

"Oh, God, Greg," she cried out in the most anguished voice he had ever heard.

Had she lost the baby? House looked at her. She didn't look pale from blood loss. He didn't see any staining on her jeans. He looked over her shoulder at the toilet. There was some vomit in there, but no blood. She could be spotting or beginning to bleed, so it wouldn't show on her clothes yet.

If something was just starting to happen, maybe there was still time to stop it. He eased her gently on to the floor and got down there carefully with her. He was raising her legs and getting ready to call an ambulance when she spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm elevating your legs. Maybe we can do something to keep the baby."

"The baby! How am I going to stop them from hurting the baby?"

"What? What do you mean? Are you spotting or bleeding?"

"No . . . "

House released a breath he didn't know he was holding. But, if she wasn't having a miscarriage, why the hell was she so upset? What had she just said?

"Stop _who_ from doing _what_?"

"Greg, they're coming after me when they get out of prison. And they know I'm here in Princeton. We have to get out of here right now."

Ann jumped up and headed toward the bedroom. By the time House hauled himself up and limped into the room, Ann already had a suitcase open on the bed and she was throwing clothes into it frantically.

When he looked at her face, he saw fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. What the hell was happening?

"Annie," he said softly as he carefully approached her, "Please tell me what's going on."

"He called my cell. He said he was going to be out of prison soon. And then he was going to come here and rape me and cut me even worse. He said he'd just keep cutting . . . "

Without warning, she stopped. She sat down abruptly on the bed.

"I can't run away from them, can I? They'll just find me wherever I am. Greg, you have to get away from me or they'll get you, too. You have to go . . . " Ann started crying again.

House lowered himself onto the bed next to her. He pulled her into his arms and held her until the crying stopped. He pulled back and looked in her eyes.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't care who is coming after you. I'm _not_ leaving you, _ever_. Got that?"

"But—"

"No. No qualifiers. Not _ever_."

In contrast to her words, Ann burrowed deeper into his chest. She was clinging to him like drowning man to a lifeline. House was worried about her. She was usually so strong and determined. It was like she had already given up. It must be the shock of the phone call, coming out of nowhere. He had to get her to stop thinking that they were powerless.

"Annie, look at me. I don't know how this happened, but we don't have to just sit here and wait for them. We can do something."

"What?"

"Well, we can contact the police. This guy is in prison somewhere making threatening phone calls. That has to be illegal. In fact, he had to have had some help, so that makes it a conspiracy."

Focusing on something seemed to help her a little. "Why do you think he had some help?"

"You haven't put your address or cell phone number on Facebook, have you?"

"Of course not."

"And I'm assuming your company website doesn't show them."

"No."

"And even if he were able to google you and get your address, he still wouldn't get your cell number. So, it had to have come from someone else who had the information."

"Well, I've had a lot of clients around the country. They all have my cell phone."

"But most don't know about the rape."

"That guy in Lexington did."

"Yeah, but you said he ran away before you were able to give him any details."

"So?"

"How would he know the name of the guy that raped you? And what prison he was in? Or even where it happened?"

"He wouldn't."

"So, there's no way he could figure out who it was. And, I'm guessing you never gave him your cell number, either."

"Absolutely not."

"Well, then, the only people who would know about it and have your information are your family – "

"Who wouldn't do this."

"Or someone associated with Princeton Plainsboro, who knew about the attack because you told people at the Christmas party."

"I'm such an idiot."

"You were provoked."

"But, Princeton-Plainsboro has a lot of employees . . . "

"Most of whom either don't know you, or like you too much to do this to you, or don't have your cell number."

"So, it has to be someone who has my cell and doesn't like me. Doctor Cuddy?"

"Probably not. Doing something like this would jeopardize her job and make our lawsuit stronger."

"Then who?"

"Well, it has to be someone who has access to your cell number, say, from Cuddy's phone, access to our address through hospital personnel records, and someone who knows about your past and would be able find the people that attacked you."

"Lucas?"

"Yes."

"But how would he contact them to let them know about me and give them all that personal information without someone at the prison seeing him?"

"There are ways to contact inmates outside approved channels, if you know the right people. And by 'right,' I mean wrong."

"And Lucas would know these people?"

"As a PI, he knows all kinds of people, including some less-than-savory types, I'm sure."

"This is all fascinating, Greg, but how does it protect us?"

"Think about it. If an inmate is up for parole, and he's been shown to conspire with someone outside the prison to terrorize and threaten a former victim, do you think the parole board is going to look at that and say he's a good candidate to be let back out into society?"

House had been sitting next to Ann and holding her all during their discussion. He felt her body finally relax as his words sank in.

"So, how do we do this?"

"I think we start with a phone call to the cops."

Ann went to get her cell to call the police, but House stopped her. It probably wouldn't make any difference if she used it, but he didn't want to mess up anything with the call history, in case that could be used as evidence.

When they called on the landline, they were instructed to go to the Princeton police station and file a report. House wasn't too keen on that idea. The last time he was at the station, he was attempting to take the plea bargain Tritter had offered him, only to find that Tritter knew about the theft of the patient's drugs, causing him to withdraw the deal. Not exactly a happy memory.

Still, he'd been clean for about two years now. Even if he met up with Tritter, he couldn't get anything new on House. It was about four and a half years since the trial, so the statute of limitations wasn't up yet, but House hoped Tritter had moved on to other things. In any case, he needed to do this to help Ann, and he supposed that was worth some discomfort on his part.

Realizing it would probably take some time, House called in to work to let his team know he wouldn't be back that afternoon. Foreman told him Cuddy had sent a case. So, she wouldn't expect him to be doing clinic duty and wouldn't notice his absence. He told his team to keep in touch as they re-did the patient history and tests.

The officer who took the report was rather aloof, but he was professional. He said there wasn't too much they could do other than a phone trap in case the guy or one of the other rapists called again. He said, as House had already figured out, their best bet would be to contact the parole board in New York and tell them what had happened.

Ann was concerned that she wouldn't be able to prove the rapist had called her. The cop asked to see her cell and took it away for a few moments. He returned with a download of her most recent calls. Using a reverse-call database, he found the last call had indeed come from a prison in upstate New York.

The officer remarked that his job was made a lot easier by the fact that most criminals were morons. House smiled inwardly at that observation.

The cop also agreed it was pretty likely that someone outside the prison had assisted the inmate. He said he would send a report to his counterparts in New York to investigate up there, while he investigated locally. He advised them to contact local police forces near anyone they suspected might be involved.

They got home at about four in the afternoon. Ann had relaxed considerably since House found her in near-hysterics that morning. At least she wasn't talking any more about sending him away.

Ann called her cell phone carrier and arranged the trap. She also had one put on their landline and House's cell, just to be safe.

House fielded a call from his team. The patient was a local politician, who had been hiding a few symptoms and lying about some of his activities, most notably that he frequently had unprotected sex with prostitutes. It was an unusual presentation, but he definitely had an STD. The team started treatment and House was glad to avoid the drama that would ensue when the devoted wife found out.

They had the Ropa Vieja that Ann had cooked in the crock pot for dinner, along with a salad.

After they cleaned up, Ann and House went to the living room to watch some TV and unwind a little more.

"Listen," Ann said during one of the commercial breaks, "I'm sorry about today."

"What?" House asked, genuinely puzzled. He turned off the TV and looked at her. "What the hell do you have to be sorry about?"

"Well, my past . . . I'm not exactly 'low maintenance.' "

"Yeah, because I'm such an easygoing, happy-go-lucky, laid back guy with my own blissful history."

There was a pause. House knew that he had effectively addressed Ann's concern about her past making things too difficult for him. But, he sensed there was something more.

"Today . . . I said something to you . . . I hope I didn't hurt you . . . I was terrified. . . I never want . . . "

House heard her breath hitch and he looked at her. He was having a tough time reading the expression on her face. Was it regret? Or, perhaps guilt? He just couldn't figure out what she could possibly have to feel guilty about.

"Annie, what is it?" House asked gently.

"When I said I wanted you to go away," her breath was catching again, this time with more force, "I didn't mean it. I just wanted to protect you . . . I don't ever . . .want you to leave . . . me . . . _please_."

The last word came out as whisper, both because she was ready to cry and because, ironically enough, of the intensity of her plea. House felt something pull hard inside his chest.

House reached for her. Even though Ann was not a tiny woman, House's hand was still large enough to envelop her face. He could feel the tears slipping down her cheeks and dripping between his fingers. The feelings in his chest intensified.

"I know you were scared and you didn't mean it," he whispered back, having some trouble now with his own voice. "But, I did mean it when I said I'm not leaving you, ever. I love you too much to do that."

Ann turned her head and placed a lingering kiss on his palm. She tenderly rubbed her face against his hand. "Thank you. I adore you, Gregory House."

Ann's crying had stopped and she was looking directly at him. He was amazed how unselfconscious she could be with tears all over her face. For all her problems with her mother and her brother, she'd obviously never had an immediate family member who mocked her fear and weakness. Maybe that was why she never mocked House's. And maybe why he felt so safe around her. And very likely what was making his dick so incredibly hard at the moment.

Ann leaned in towards him, and House thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she went right past his mouth and moved around to the back of his neck.

"It's been a while since I've truly appreciated this particular piece of real estate," Ann murmured as she began to kiss and lick the nape of his neck. "So beautiful."

There were times when House just didn't understand Ann. How could she, or anyone, for that matter, consider his rough, weather-beaten, scarred neck beautiful? That mystery was pushed aside as her mouth continued to pleasure him. House's forehead rested in the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He felt like he was turning to Jell-o.

"Let's go to bed before your third leg keeps you from walking there," Ann suggested as she stopped kissing him and stood up. She held out her hands and he took them and let her pull him up. He gave her a couple of soft pecks on the lips before they headed into the bedroom, walking with their arms around each other.

I didn't take long for them to get naked in bed together. House's hands and mouth went for her breasts. They were huge and gorgeous. God, had they gotten bigger since this morning in the shower? His tongue licked her nipples while Ann moaned her approval.

His hands made their way down to her beautiful backside. Again, House swore it felt bigger than it had this morning. A flicker of something passed through his mind. How could anyone hurt this amazing ass? It was like damaging a priceless work of art – trying to ruin something so perfect just because you could. And then, when you knew who the ass belonged to, it was even more inexplicable. How could anyone even consider harming this incredible, loving woman?

While House was pondering all this, Ann was climbing on top of him. She had run his straining cock against her folds and was just about ready to guide his cock inside. House flipped her on her back. "Let me make love to you, Annie," he murmured.

Ann sighed in a tone that House could only describe as musical. She spread her thighs as wide as she possibly could, inviting him inside her. She dug her heels into the mattress, obviously anticipating his penetrating her deeply.

When House saw her soft, pink, dripping folds, wide open and needing him desperately, he almost lost it right there. He willed himself to stay together as he slowly entered her.

As House pushed in to the hilt, Ann moaned.

"So full," she said in a throaty voice, "So, _so_ full."

On the second thrust, House found the spot inside her he was looking for. It only took a few strokes until Ann went over the edge. He managed to keep himself from exploding in spite of the intense stimulation her orgasm gave him. He didn't wait until she stopped to continue with his thrusts. Ann was babbling incoherently when he took her over the edge again.

House knew he couldn't last much longer himself. He starting moving in and out, again, before she had finished the previous orgasm. He felt her squeezing him with greater and greater intensity. The stimulation was beyond anything he had ever felt before. As she got to the edge for the third time and he couldn't stop himself any more, he reached down to touch her clit. Her mouth opened in a silent cry as her entire body convulsed in wave after wave of pleasure.

House's body stiffened and he emptied himself inside her, feeling his own waves of pleasure crashing over him again and again.

He collapsed next to her, unable to think or speak. She was in a similar state. Operating on instinct alone, they reached for each other. It took almost a half-hour before they could communicate again.

Even though they were able to talk, words seemed inadequate. They looked into each other's eyes and caressed each other until they fell asleep.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: I'm not sure I'm really happy with this chapter. It feels a little too much like a checklist to me. Well, blame it on my cold. At least I hope the dialogue is worth it.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.

That Thursday, Ann got another phone call, this time from one of her other attackers. The phone trap worked and they traced the call to the same prison as the first call.

Ann didn't get as upset this time, but she was obviously still shaken. The police investigation ramped up. Ginsberg gave them the name of a prominent victims' rights attorney, who gave them a series of options regarding protecting themselves. They did the paperwork regarding protection orders, but Ann wasn't optimistic. She knew that if someone wanted to get to you, they could, no matter what you did.

She had to hope that the parole board would be reasonable and not let these guys out. But she knew very well that the legal system wasn't always reasonable.

House decided he didn't want to leave her alone any more. So, he worked mostly from their home. If he had to go in to work, he arranged for either someone on his team or Danielle to be with her. Tom came down and stayed for a while, too.

Ann realized, better than anyone, that if these guys were to get out and come after her, a girlfriend, a senior citizen, a short middle-aged guy, a woman with the beginning stages of Huntington's, or a guy with most of his thigh muscle missing (incredibly strong though the rest of his body was to compensate) could hardly protect her.

She had a better shot with either Foreman or Chase, since they were younger and stronger, but even they couldn't do much against three guys who were scarcely weak before and had had several years in prison to work out and bulk up.

So, she paid for increased protection from the security company, kept in touch with the police, filed all the required paperwork with the parole board and the courts, and hoped for the best. She also recognized that with the additional security features she wanted, the baby coming and House working more out of their home, they were probably going to need to move.

Ann suspected that there wouldn't be any existing houses that would truly meet their needs, unless they did extensive renovations. So, she began to research floor plans. When none of those met her criteria, she started looking into architects.

She knew that a custom-designed, custom-built home would be very expensive, but if things went well with the lawsuit, they would be able to afford it, she hoped. She kept a list of things she wanted, and added or deleted features as she continued to research what was available.

In the midst of all this difficulty, she still had a wedding to plan. The guest list wasn't long, by any means, but it required some thought. On her side, there were Tom and Sharon, Bob and Deirdre, and Danielle and Chase.

She had considered inviting Andrew, Tom's son, and his girlfriend, but she figured they would be busy and not able to attend. And, since they were just starting out and didn't have a lot of money, she didn't want to obligate them to get a gift.

She also considered including her mother, brother and sister-in-law. She tried to remember what Joe had said when House told him they were getting married. It was something about letting them know when it happened, but Ann wasn't sure if that meant before, so they could come, or after, so they could avoid it and send a gift. (No doubt something that she and House wouldn't want, like a waffle iron or a chia pet, and done out of a sense of obligation, not because they actually were happy for them.)

She asked House, who wasn't sure. On the one hand, he wanted to enjoy the wedding (to the extent he could enjoy any wedding), and not have to deal with awkward social interactions, which were a surety given his personality and his feelings toward Ann's biological family.

They were so into appearing conventional that House was positive they would have comments about their daughter marrying someone fifteen years older who was a cripple. He also thought that even if they could restrain themselves, he was not sure he could go through the motions and pretend he wasn't pissed that they had treated Ann like crap for years. (He also thought Tom might mix it up with them, too.)

On the other hand, he was interested in meeting them. He had never really had the chance to be up close and personal with true sociopaths in a non-work setting and it piqued his curiosity. So, he told Ann what he thought, and left it at that. Since it was her family, it was ultimately up to her, anyway.

His "side" was pretty small, too. He thought they would invite only his mother. He scoffed when Ann suggested his team. Ann reminded him that Chase would be there, and that he didn't want to create bad feelings among his other employees. House replied that he never cared what feelings he created in his staff and that they'd probably be relieved _not_ to be invited.

Ann reminded him that they had appeared to have a decent time together at the Christmas party. That made him realize if they invited the team, he would get another chance to interact with their significant others. That was always interesting, and it presented an opportunity to obtain intelligence on them as well. So, House acquiesced.

House mentioned inviting Wilson. Ann was definitely opposed. Ann was, in her own way, as pissed at Wilson for treating House like crap as House was at her mother and brother for doing the same to her.

House told her he was willing to let bygones be bygones as far as Wilson pushing him out of the condo was concerned. When House thought about it, he probably was ready to be on his own again. And the result of Wilson forcing him out that summer had been to make House move on, which let him be open to meeting Ann.

Ann thought that if House was ready to meet someone, it really wouldn't matter where he was living or who he was living with, so that was no justification for Wilson to have unceremoniously dumped House on the street. In any case, in Ann's mind that wasn't the worst of Wilson's offenses.

She still couldn't forgive Wilson not only for asking House to risk his life for Amber, but also his not appreciating in the least that House did it. Yes, Wilson may have been grief-stricken at the time, but he must have gotten over the loss (as evidenced by his relationship with Sam) and he still hadn't even acknowledged what House had done.

She thought, despite his reputation for being selfless, that Wilson was a taker. She knew that House, despite his being known for his selfishness, was genuine in his generosity. She was afraid of Wilson exploiting House again. And, if House frying his brain and nearly dying wasn't enough to merit even the tiniest bit of gratitude from Wilson, what would he demand of House next time?

It was possible that now that House was going to have a wife and a child that needed him, he would refuse the next insane loyalty test Wilson threw at him. But, knowing that House would do anything for a friend, Ann didn't want to count on that.

She convinced House not to invite Wilson because of Sam. Ann breathed an inward sigh of relief, although she knew it was a temporary situation. After everything that Wilson had done, if House was still considering inviting him to his wedding, there was a strong connection. House was an adult, and Ann didn't want to be in the position of trying to stop him from seeing a friend, even if, in Ann's eyes, he wasn't much of one.

Maybe if she could talk to Wilson and convince him - of what she wasn't sure. All she knew was that Wilson needed to be made aware that things had changed and House wasn't lonely and vulnerable any more. Ann was watching, and there was no way she was going to let Wilson take advantage of House again. Well, that was a problem for another day.

She didn't know how House or Tom would react to her biological family, and she really didn't need more conflict in her life right now. More importantly, she knew her mother and brother were capable of draining the emotion right out of her.

She wasn't sure how she'd feel marrying the love of her life and the father of her child. She might be giddy, she might be nervous, she might be melancholy, she might be awestruck, or she might be those things and more, all at once. Whatever she was, she wanted to _feel_ it. So, Ann decided against inviting her biological family.

The guest list was finally settled.

* * *

Ann needed to pick a location for the wedding and the reception. Since they were both atheists, a house of worship was not necessary. They could have a legal authority like a judge or a justice of the peace preside. The ceremony could take place wherever the reception was held.

House's first suggestion was a biker bar in a not-so-great part of town. Ann said that while she appreciated that House wanted to make sure the wedding would be informal, she felt this was a little _too_ informal, not to mention possibly dangerous. House chided her on her lack of a sense of adventure and they moved on.

Ann suggested a couple of the local hotel chains. House vetoed that idea. He didn't want the event in a place that specialized in huge, formal weddings. In that setting he thought they would either get shoved off into an obscure corner and be ignored, or they would get way too much "help," which would be annoying.

They thought about it some more and Ann suggested the bed and breakfast they had stayed in the previous Labor Day. It was small and intimate and they knew the innkeeper was good at accommodating guests. They checked the website and found the inn could be booked for small weddings.

Ann called Hale. He remembered her and was thrilled that she was considering his bed and breakfast as a wedding venue. He sent her all kinds of information about local services like catering, music, and flowers. He also offered to find guests rooms at other bed and breakfasts nearby if there were too many to be accommodated at his place.

Hale had the second weekend in August available, so Ann booked it and put down a deposit. She would be about six months pregnant, so she would definitely be showing by then.

This prompted House to request a wedding on the beach so Ann would be barefoot and pregnant. Ann said it probably wouldn't be the most fun she'd ever had getting married on a beach in the blazing sun, especially with her being that far along. But, to House's surprise and delight, she agreed not to wear shoes provided she could be in air-conditioning.

He told her that if she would wear cut-off jeans and a top that exposed her midriff, his entire hillbilly fantasy would be realized. She said he shouldn't hold his breath waiting for that to happen, although she didn't rule it out for wedding-night attire. House's response was to send her several websites that specialized in lingerie for pregnant women. Ann took the hint and started to research her trousseau.

* * *

House realized it was his responsibility to make the arrangements for the honeymoon. He had started out thinking he would surprise her, but he decided that could either be really good, or, if he picked the wrong place, really bad.

Since there were so many places to go, and since he had a unique capability to piss people off, he thought the odds were much higher that he would pick the wrong place. The idea of spending a week or ten days with a very cranky pregnant women who, because she was irritable, wasn't about to give him sex just wasn't his idea of fun.

"So, where do you want to go on our honeymoon?" House asked her.

"As long as I'm with you, I don't really care," Ann replied.

"That was an excellent answer, but I don't think it was completely truthful."

"Sure, it was."

"Not really."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm just imagining a woman who is six months pregnant visiting Vegas in August. It's one hundred twenty degrees, and she can't go into any casino or show because of the second-hand smoke."

"The buffets would work out well, though. Seriously, I take your point. So, no trips the desert."

"Which eliminates Nevada, most of Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah, and decent-sized chunks of California. Since I know you're not celebrity-obsessed, I'm guessing L.A. and Hollywood aren't high on your list. And we can probably skip wine country, since neither of us can drink.

"I think we can also skip the Southeast. If we want ninety plus degrees and humid, we can stay in Jersey."

"Pacific Northwest?"

"That wouldn't be bad, but it would certainly be a plane ride or two, and I don't know how much we want to travel, because of . . . my being pregnant."

House also knew that long plane rides in confined spaces didn't agree with his leg, especially after having had to hustle himself across a large airport to get a connecting flight.

Even before the infarction, he had always wondered how it happened that whatever flight he took, the next flight he needed to catch was always at the farthest gate at least two terminals away. And the even more startling thing was that every other passenger had the same experience.

He wasn't sure how the airlines managed that, but it was a marvel. Of course, House also considered a complex, hard-to-cure virus that caused dementia and puss-filled, weeping sores a marvel, too.

In any case, he appreciated that Ann would make it about her condition instead of his.

"So, the great Northeast, then?"

"I know that doesn't get your heart pumping like Vegas would, but there are some interesting things to do in the summers up there."

"Like what?"

"Saratoga is The August Place to Be."

"What?"

"It's an old advertising slogan from track season in Saratoga Springs."

"I thought you weren't a gambler. How do you know about that?"

"I'm from Schenectady, remember? Local girl."

"Do you really want to honeymoon where you used to live?"

"Not really. But it's about six hours from Cape May, give or take, so it would be a good half-way point for us to stop for a day or two."

"Half-way to where?"

"Quebec City."

"Hmm."

"It's like Paris without the insane traffic, the smelly people, the anti-American feelings, the bad Euro-Dollar exchange rate, . . . "

"And without the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, the Latin Quarter . . . "

"It's the only walled city in North America. It's on UNESCO's World Heritage List. It's old, it's picturesque, it's romantic . . . "

"And since it's in the Great White North, it's most likely not going to be in the nineties with humidity, even in August."

"But if it is, unlike Paris, there's air conditioning."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner."

"And where do you want to stay on the way back?"

"Not Saratoga?"

"Well, if we go for ten days, we'll be coming back on Wednesday, which means we'd stop on Tuesday.

"So?"

"Unless they've changed the schedule, the track is closed on Tuesday."

"Again, how do you know that?"

"It's a big deal to the locals. There's not much to do all winter, which is about six months long, so you cram in as much as possible during the summers. Hey, speaking of summer events, we could stay in Lenox. The Boston Symphony is at Tanglewood, and the Berkshire Theater Festival is going on."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm completely gay and _so_ into theater."

"I was checking into the schedule, and I saw there was an actor who'll be there this summer that I really like."

"Who?"

"Robert Sean Leonard."

"_Who_?"

"He was in several movies, like 'Dead Poet's Society' and 'Swing Kids.' He's done some stuff on TV, too."

"Can he even act on stage? I've heard a lot of those TV actors hate doing stuff in the theater."

"He won a Tony, I think."

"Whatever. If you want to get tickets, I'm fine with that."

"For a not-gay guy who hates theater, you acquiesced awfully quickly. Why?"

"Just trying to please the mother of my child."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the real reason?"

"Straight and bisexual men go to the theater with women for the express purpose of getting laid afterward."

"So, if I drag you to a play, you're going to have certain expectations?"

"Yep."

"But, no pressure or anything."

"Hey, I'm just explaining how guys think. You know, for your edification."

"Gee, thanks, _dear_."

So, House went off to obtain lodging reservations in all three locations, while Ann obtained tickets and researched other things to do in their chosen spots.

* * *

Ann continued to work on wedding planning. She wasn't much into flowers. For one thing, they still reminded her of her father's funeral. For another, having been married once herself, and having been to weddings of countless acquaintances and business associates, she had observed that the flowers were rarely noticed or appreciated.

They were also quite expensive. The inn didn't need them for decoration, and House certainly wouldn't be upset if he didn't have a boutonnière. She thought about whether she wanted a bouquet. They were nice to have when walking down the aisle – they helped with nerves by giving the bride something to do with her hands.

But, they were a pain at the ceremony itself. They had to be put somewhere and then remembered before the walk back down the aisle. And the throwing of the bouquet, well that was ridiculous at Ann's age. There would be people at the wedding that weren't married, but it wasn't likely that Danielle, Foreman's significant other or, for that matter, Hadley's, were going to elbow each other and lunge for the bouquet.

So, she decided to pass on the flowers.

* * *

The food was the next big decision. One caterer she contacted suggested Polynesian food, since they were getting married near the ocean.

"Just what is Polynesian food?" House asked.

"I don't know what authentic Polynesian food is, but this is a lot of chicken and beef on a stick, with peanut sauce and pineapple."

House made a face. "Just because we're getting married near a beach doesn't mean we have to eat that pseudo-tropical shit."

"I know, but I don't think anyone is going to be in the mood for beef Wellington or anything with heavy cream sauces."

"Well, there has to be something."

Ann continued to contact caterers. Was it really that difficult to come up with a menu that didn't seem like it belonged on the set of an Elvis movie?

She finally thought she might be on to something when a caterer suggested food from Italy. It had a long coastline (hence a lot of beaches and cuisine from the sea) and warm weather, and the food was fairly light in most regions.

House liked Italian food and, as long as there was some beef involved, he let Ann make the rest of the selections.

* * *

Then there was the music. House said he would be perfectly fine with a DJ playing music. Ann wasn't.

"Why do we need to spend a pile of money on a band when a DJ will work just as well?" House questioned. "It's not like either of us will be getting up to dance more than a couple of times."

"True," Ann acknowledged. "But a DJ can be so cheesy. He's going to play Madonna, Cool and the Gang, The Village People, and songs too hideous to contemplate when we cut the cake."

"Can't we just threaten him with bodily harm if he does any of that?"

"I guess. But it's not the same."

"No, it isn't. But it's cheaper. Cheap works for me."

"I know it does. And you're making good points . . . "

"But? "

"Well, I thought . . . no, I'm not even going to bring this up."

"What?"

"It's nothing important."

"Sure, that'll convince me. You know that not telling me something creates a mystery. And creating a mystery for me is like waving a red flag in front of a bull."

"And you know that bulls are color blind and that the only reason they charge is because they've been poked and speared into a frenzy."

"Yeah, yeah. Save the discourse on the history of bullfighting and its inherent cruelty for later. Tell me the real reason you want a live band."

"Well, I was hoping that whoever we pick has a piano."

"Not all bands do. In fact, most just have some kind of electronic keyboard. Why would they need a piano, in particular?"

"I . . . I feel so ridiculous . . . I can't . . . "

"You're embarrassed? A woman who will give me a sponge bath and have sex with me in hospital room, and you're being reticent? What is it? Do you want to do a strip tease on top of the piano or something?"

"Of course. I mean, who _wouldn't_ want to see a woman who is six months pregnant take off her clothes?"

"I would."

"You're just kinky that way. Most people aren't."

"I know. And I know that isn't the reason. Quit stalling and tell me."

"Okay. I just thought . . . it would be great if . . . I'd like to have a piano so you could play the song you wrote for me for my birthday."

Ann had rushed out the last part of the sentence. She looked away and down at the floor, completely embarrassed. She was also turning a rather lovely shade of pink.

"Seriously?" House asked.

"Y-y-yes," Ann stammered, still feeling completely awkward.

"You really want everyone to hear that?"

"Not everyone. Just the people who mean something to me, or to you."

House was about to protest that his staff didn't mean a thing to him, until he realized it was pointless. That, and he felt a warm feeling growing in his chest. Was this what it felt like when someone truly appreciated something you did for them? She still loved that stupid music so much that she wanted the people she cared about most to hear it? To hear him pouring his soul out to her?

House was the one having difficulty speaking now. He cleared his throat, attempting to get rid of the lump. "If you want . . . I could . . . "

"Yes, I want . . . " Ann croaked.

"Okay," House forced out.

They weren't sure how it happened, but suddenly, hands were touching faces and lips were connecting. After several deep kisses, they broke for air, resting against each other's foreheads.

"Okay," House admitted breathlessly. "You convinced me. I'll go for the live band. With a piano."

* * *

The next discussion was the wedding party. For Ann, it was pretty simple.

"Danielle is going to be my—" she paused. "What do I call her? If you're single, you're a maid of honor, if you're married, you're a matron of honor, but what do they call it if you've been married but are single again?"

"Don't ask me," House replied.

"Can you go back to being a maid of honor?"

"That might be like trying to regain your virginity, not that I've ever tried to do that."

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"I was sixteen. She was eighteen and leaving for college. I don't remember her name. It was good, but not mind-blowing. Or any other kind of blowing, for that matter. I guess it just whetted my appetite for more."

"You waited until you were sixteen?"

"That's not _that_ old. It's not like I was a forty-year-old virgin or anything. Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know. You're fifty and you have such . . . stamina. I'm picturing you at thirteen, with that first surge off hormones, just chomping at the bit."

"You're confusing need with opportunity. I might have wanted to bang the girl who had just gotten boobs sitting at the desk next to mine when I was in eighth grade, but there were some logistical obstacles, namely, where to do the deed. It wasn't like I could bring her back to my place and get it on."

"So, where did you and Miss Off-To-College do it?"

"In her Dad's car. It was a little cramped, but definitely doable. Do I detect a bit of jealousy?"

"I do envy the woman who got to de-flower you. Of course, I would have been a year old when you were sixteen."

"Shut up."

"Yes, dear. So, who are you going to pick for your best man?"

"I don't know. I never imagined that I'd get married, so I never thought about a best man. And when Wilson and I . . . "

"Sorry." Ann's hands found their way to House's face, and she caressed him tenderly in an effort to give him some comfort.

"The easiest thing would be to pick Chase," Ann offered in an attempt to move the subject off of Wilson.

"Why is that easy?"

"Because he's with Danielle."

"And if this were a just-out-of-high-school shotgun wedding it would be _so_ cool that we had the King and Queen of the Senior Prom to stand up for us."

"I think Danielle would have a seriously difficult time seeing herself as a Prom Queen."

"What? Is that a comment about her size?"

"No. What I meant was, because she has a brain, she never would have been one of the popular girls, hence she never would have made Prom Queen."

"Yeah, most of those popular girls were easy lays, but not much else."

"And how do you know this?"

"I discovered it at the age of seventeen. I _loved_ my senior year of high school."

"Terrific. Well, even if we can't do the high school part, I am pregnant, so this could be sort of shotgun, I guess."

House shuddered.

"What?" Ann asked.

"I'm just picturing Tom coming after me with a weapon, threatening to disembowel me unless I made an honest woman out of you. Scary."

"Yeah, I'm not sure what Sicilian traditions there are regarding the father getting the boyfriend to marry the knocked-up daughter, but I'm sure they're not pretty. And combined with Tom's Irish temper that could be quite nasty. But we keep getting off the topic here. Are you okay with Chase?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"When you talk to him, I'd try to make asking him sound a little less like it reminded you of a colonoscopy."

"They're actually not that bad, since there's Demerol involved."

"Whatever."

With most of the major wedding items dealt with, Ann planned to focus on impeding legal matters. Those certainly wouldn't go away, but another thing would soon become rather intrusive as well.


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs

By the beginning of June, everyone had been invited to the wedding and had accepted. The inn had six rooms, so the wedding party and most of the guests could stay there except for two couples. Even though there was a spare room, House's team (except for Chase) opted for rooms at an inn that was about two blocks away.

Danielle knew without being asked that she was going to be Ann's attendant, and, of course, accepted amid many hugs and tears.

House approached Chase warily. He had sent the team off to run tests on their patient and kept Chase behind in his office.

"I need to ask you something," House ventured tentatively.

"Okay," Chase responded cautiously in return.

"It's, um, about the wedding."

"Ann finally wised up and realized what a mistake it is to marry you and is calling off the whole thing."

"Wow, that wasn't nice."

"What can I say, I learned from the best."

There was a brief pause as House struggled to broach the subject again.

"Listen, here's the thing. You know that Danielle is going to be Ann's whatever-you-call-it."

"Maid of honor?"

"Yeah. So, since you guys are a couple, would you, you know, do the equivalent thing for me?"

"You mean be your best man?"

"Uh-huh."

"And it's because I'm with Danielle and it has nothing at all to do with our relationship that you're picking me."

"Well, if you're going to get all girly and start talking about relationships, you can forget it."

"No, I think I'll accept."

"Um, I guess I'm supposed to say 'thanks' here or something."

"You're welcome. Are we going to have to get tuxes or anything?"

"We haven't decided on the dress code yet, but it's near the beach, so it shouldn't be anything that formal, I'm guessing. Anyway, how the hell would I know? That's up to Ann."

"Alright."

"What's the deal with you? First, you want to discuss relationships, then you need to know what to wear. Did a disgruntled clinic patient make off with your penis or something?"

"I suppose showing you that I still have it wouldn't really convince you of my manliness at this moment."

"Spare me the nasty visuals and get back to work."

* * *

House's birthday was approaching. He told Ann he didn't want a party, claiming that they'd be spending too much on the wedding as it was. He also pointed out that they didn't have a party for her birthday, either - at least one that involved more than the two of them.

So, Ann agreed to an intimate gathering for two. Her dinner menu choices turned out not to lean so heavily toward aphrodisiacs as House's selections had, but she figured between his libido, and her raging second trimester hormones, they wouldn't need too much to get their motors running.

It was a Saturday. Ann was going to send House away as she got things ready, so her preparations would be a surprise, but he didn't want that. Since it was his birthday, she acquiesced. The problem was that House was in no mood to let her do pretty much anything except have sex.

He woke up that morning with some serious wood. Ann happily relieved his tension by taking a ride. They dozed for about an hour afterward, then got up and had some intense shower sex. They ate breakfast in the nude and then returned to the bedroom for a about half-hour of talking and fondling, culminating in yet more sex.

They dozed for another couple of hours and got up for lunch, still not having gotten dressed. House quickly devoured his salad and sandwich and dragged Ann into the living room for sex on the couch. Truth be told, he didn't have to do much dragging. He'd been busy most of the preceding week on a case, and they'd only had time for sex once a day, and Ann was just as eager to make up for lost time.

"Siesta time!" House exclaimed after they were finished and had been cuddling for a while.

"As good as that sounds, I have to start cooking dinner now," Ann reminded him.

"It's my birthday."

"Yes . . . "

"So, that means you have to do what I want, and I want you to nap with me. Now."

"I'm impressed with your, um, forcefulness, Greg. A nap sounds really good, but I have to start cooking or I won't be able to get dinner finished anywhere near on time."

"Don't care."

"You will when it's six or seven and you're starving."

"That's why they invented takeout and delivery."

"Do you really want to eat takeout on your birthday?"

"I want to eat you (and screw you) on my birthday, and if that means takeout, I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"Eat me, huh? When we go to the bedroom, do we have to go to sleep right away?"

A ghost of a smile passed over House's lips. "You are a lustful, wanton woman. No wonder I love you."

"I love you, too. C'mon."

Ann pulled House toward the bedroom.

She climbed on the bed and spread her legs as wide as she possibly could.

"Going for the subtle approach, huh?"

"When a man with mad tongue skills offers to bring you to ecstasy, it's rude not to appear appreciative."

"And eager . . . "

With that, House lowered himself on to the bed. He pulled one of her feet towards his face. He began licking the sole.

"What are you doing?" Ann hissed and attempted to pull away.

"Just getting my tongue warmed up," House responded as he licked her toes and in-between.

Ann squirmed and struggled to get away, but House's grip was firm. She breathed a sigh of relief as he let her foot go, since she thought he was done. He quickly grabbed her other foot and did the same thing to it.

"Greg, please stop," she begged, panting.

He put her foot down on the bed.

"You're right. I don't want to wear out my tongue," House agreed with a leer.

He kissed his way slowly up the inside of her thighs, continuing to lick and nip at random intervals. Ann was moaning softly as he reached her fulcrum.

He ran his tongue in the spot between her legs and her outer lips. This was almost as ticklish as her feet had been, especially as his beard scraped against her inner thighs. Ann hissed again.

His flicked his tongue softly and slowly along her outer lips. In addition to being sensuous as hell, it was a taste, as it were, of things to come. Ann could feel the arousal growing in her lower regions.

He briefly licked her inner lips. It was even more sensitive than her outer lips had been. He gently pulled them apart with his fingers and his tongue plunged inside her. Somehow, the tip of his tongue found a spot – _the_ spot – and he continued to lick softly.

Ann cried out as her orgasm hit. House could feel her body squeezing his tongue. The sensation made him aware of the stiffness in another part of his body. But, he could hold off for a while, he thought.

He didn't wait for her orgasm to finish when he started to lick her clit. It was already engorged, and his soft licks felt incredible. It didn't take long before she was climaxing again.

The pressure continued to build in House's groin as he went back to her opening with his tongue. He quickly parted her lips again, found the spot and licked with just the right amount of pressure. It took only a couple of minutes until Ann's body stiffened and she came yet again.

She was whimpering and begging him to stop when his tongue found her clit a second time. He ignored her pleas. (It was his birthday, after all, and this was what he wanted – to make her cum until she couldn't take it any more.) In a very short time, her legs were lifting off the mattress and her eyes were rolling back in her head as she came a fourth time.

Ann was beyond forming words at this point, hence, beyond protest. Her legs had lost all muscle tone and were spread impossibly wide. House decided to continue pleasuring her, alternating locations. He wanted to she how long she could continue.

Unfortunately for House, his physical needs began to trump his scientific curiosity. After Ann had two more orgasms, House realized he just couldn't wait any longer.

"Annie," he whispered, "I need to come inside you."

Ann was incapable of speech and her eyes were glassy. House thought he saw a brief flash in acknowledgment of what he was saying, but he couldn't be sure. He was more sure when her wavering hand made a motion to reach for his cock. At least that was how he decided to interpret it.

He slid his now-throbbing penis inside her. After everything he had done to her she was very wet, but still, somehow quite tight. House wasn't sure how long he could go before he shot his wad. He wanted to make her come at least once more before he did.

He had pulled in and out only a few times when he felt her muscles clench and unclench around him. At that point, even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't stop. He emptied himself deep inside her. The force and vibration of his ejaculation made Ann cum one last time. As she finished, he saw her eyes close and he felt her body go limp.

House pulled his softening cock out and collapsed next to her. He slowly came down from his high. He was exhausted, but he had enough presence of mind to check her pulse. It was strong and steady. He gently pulled her legs together, not that he met with any resistance on her part. He fell asleep with the knowledge that he literally had fucked her until she passed out. If he weren't so tired, he would have felt smug.

They had takeout that night, which was slightly awkward since they still weren't dressed. House went to the door in a towel. If the kid making the delivery had any thoughts about why a guy would be wearing a towel when he obviously hadn't showered or been swimming, he kept them to himself. It probably didn't hurt that House splurged and gave him a ten-dollar tip.

Sunday found them tired but happy. They had more sex and finally ate the dinner Ann had planned for House's birthday the previous day.

A couple of weeks passed with very little going on other than work and making wedding arrangements. Ginsberg had called to let them know he expected a settlement by early September. He still didn't know the exact amount, but he said he was pretty sure it would be substantial.

The criminal investigation was proceeding slowly. They had been contacted several times by the Princeton police, as well as the police in upstate New York. Of course, no one could really give them any details. The parole board in Albany had also requested that Ann be deposed about the phone calls. So, they went to a lawyer in late June and she gave her statement.

Things settled into what passed for normal in a house where there was a lawsuit pending, the occupants were waiting on the results of a criminal investigation, a wedding was being planned, and a baby was on the way.

* * *

In early July, Chase was working in the lab. It was almost time for him to leave. Their case had been solved, but House had wanted more information about the virus that has almost killed their patient. Chase was finishing up as his cell rang, and he picked it up. He was about to answer when he heard voices.

"So, things are going well with you and Chase, eh?" Chase recognized House's baritone.

"Yes, very well, thank you." Even if Chase hadn't heard Danielle's voice, he would have known it was her based on the question House had just asked.

"You've moved in together, haven't you?"

"We found a larger apartment in the building I was in."

"Ah, yes, _that_ building. Such happy moving day memories," House sneered.

"Yeah, I remember Annie being a wreck. She never did tell me what happened . . . "

"No point in going into it now. Ancient history."

"I guess."

"So, things are really working out for you two?"

"Yes. You sound skeptical."

"Well, I never would have thought Chase would wind up with someone like you."

"Large, you mean?"

"That's part of it."

"What are the other parts of it?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Well, you brought it up."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just that you're so different from who he was with before."

"You mean his ex?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, as you've already mentioned, I'm big and she's thin."

"Unless she's bulked up in the past year or so."

"I have auburn hair and she's a blond."

"Again, provided she hasn't been hitting the hair color aisle at the drug store."

"My understanding is that she was very, shall we say, particular, about how people ought to live their lives . . . "

"Yeah, she could be judgemental."

"Whereas I'm a little less inflexible about what people ought to do."

"Reacting to the rigidity of your Catholic upbringing by being a libertine, eh?"

"Not so much that as getting older and realizing that I'm not perfect myself, and that I have no business judging someone else."

"You were married before, right?"

"Yes."

"Why did you split up?"

"He cheated on me. At least that was the reason we gave in court."

"What was the real reason? I'm guessing it wasn't because you started to put on weight."

"No, I've been, um, fluffy my whole life. I got married when I was in my early twenties. For me, I think it was more a reaction to my mom's death than anything else. I didn't really love him, and he went to find affection elsewhere. "

"He wasn't dying or anything, was he?"

"What?"

"Your husband. You didn't marry him because he had a terminal disease, did you?"

"That's a bizarre question. No, as I said before, I married him because I was distraught over my mother's death. I didn't marry him because he was dying. Unless stupidity can be considered terminal."

"Ever heard of the Darwin Awards?"

"Yes. And I can see him at least being a nominee some day."

"Well, there's another way you're not like Cameron."

"My understanding is that she is quite intelligent, so what does that have to do with the Darwin Awards?"

"Not the stupid husband part, the dying husband part."

"I'm completely confused now. Robert is healthy. How could he be terminal?"

"Not Chase. Her first husband."

"Wait – she married someone who was dying?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I mean, I can see not abandoning someone you loved who became ill . . . "

"No, she knew he was dying when she married him."

"Seriously? That's more than a little strange, isn't it? Why did she do that?"

"It fed her need to be with someone who was damaged."

"Well, I suppose it doesn't get more damaged than terminal. I'm selfish, I guess, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have done that."

"Not selfish. Sane is more like it. And another way you're not like Cameron."

"So, I think we've established I'm not very much like Robert's ex. Why is that important?"

"It isn't. It's just something I've observed."

"And what would that be?"

"That people tend to be with other people who are the same number."

"The same what?"

"Number."

"Can you explain that?"

"Yeah. For example, a woman who's a ten usually gets together with a guy who is a nine or a ten, unless he has a lot of money. The same is true for a good-looking guy."

"So, seeing as how Robert is a ten, and I'm not independently wealthy, you're wondering why he's with a three like me."

"You're not a three. More like a six, or maybe even a seven."

"Thanks, I think. So, you don't know why we're together."

"No, I don't. However, if you're the Anti-Cameron . . . "

" . . . That is, everything she isn't. He could be with me solely as a reaction to his dislike of her. He doesn't really love me; he's just using me to forget her. I can see where you might think that."

Chase had listened to several minutes of their conversation by now. It had started out well enough, but after hearing the last few things House and Danielle had said to each other, Chase was furious. He snapped the phone shut, his mind racing.

How dare they! Well, he could certainly see House analyzing the relationship and puzzling over it, annoying though that was. It was what he did after all – finding mysteries and attempting to solve them.

Chase could also imagine House observing the so-called mismatch between himself and Danielle, gathering evidence and formulating a theory. That was typical behavior for House. It was smug and it had the potential to hurt people, but House was like that when he was searching for the truth.

What truly infuriated Chase was Danielle's behavior. She seemed to be agreeing with House. How could she? Was that as little as she thought of him? Did she honestly think he was so superficial that the only reason he was with her was because she was merely the opposite of Cameron?

When Chase thought about that some more, hurt slowly began to seep in, joining with his anger. God, what was it about the women he chose to be with? None of them seemed to be able to love him, despite his giving them everything he possibly could. Was he really that bad at picking someone? Or was it something about him? His parents had never been able to love him, and the only two women he ever really cared about seemed unable to love him, too. Maybe no one was able to.

Chase felt the loneliness and rejection of his childhood filling him again. It was an old, deep, familiar hurt that never really went away. He felt like crying, but he wouldn't let himself – certainly not at work. What was he going to do now? Danielle was waiting for him in House's office, and he was so upset he knew he'd either yell or cry – or a combination of the two.

Chase headed for his locker and collected his things. He couldn't even trust himself to stay calm over the phone – he thought he might break down at the sound of her voice. So, he took the coward's way out and texted her. "Leaving work now see u at home," he tapped as he headed for the lobby. It was vague enough that she could read anything into it from anger to confusion to his forgetting she was going to meet him.

Chase hopped in one of the cabs that was always waiting near the hospital entrance. He went back to their apartment to pack his things.

Danielle and House were finishing their discussion when Danielle's cell vibrated. She looked at the text. She wondered if Chase didn't remember she was picking him up. That was odd. She left the conference room and headed down to her car.

Chase got home before she did. When he entered the apartment, he smelled the food cooking in the crockpot. Damn, he was going to miss her cooking. He realized he didn't have time to linger. She was going to be home soon, and he needed to have some clothes packed. Of course, it would only be a small portion of his stuff, but he would come back for the rest another time, preferably when she wasn't there.

Just as he was throwing the last item - a bag with toiletries - in his suitcase, he heard Danielle coming in. He braced himself for a confrontation and some serious pain.

Danielle heard him as well. She went to ask him why he hadn't waited for her to pick him up. She found him in the bedroom, zipping up his bag.

"What's this?" she asked, forgetting all about what she assumed was a mix-up over his ride. "I was talking to Greg when I was waiting for you and he didn't say anything about a business trip. Are you going back to Australia for some reason? Is there a family emergency or something?"

"You know I have no family back there," Chase snapped. He didn't care how harsh he sounded.

"Well, where are you going, then?"

"I don't know. Probably a hotel. I just know I'm getting the hell away from you."

"What are you talking about? Why are you doing this?"

"I can't . . . I can't talk about this right now. I have to leave."

Danielle knew him well enough by now to hear the pain as well as the anger in his voice. What was going on?

"Robert, please. Stay and talk to me."

"I told you I can't right now."

"Maybe later, then?"

"I doubt it."

With that Chase grabbed his suitcase off the bed and pushed past her out of the bedroom, through the apartment and out the front door, closing it forcefully as he left. Danielle was so stunned, she didn't even think to go after him. Slowly the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He had left her. She sat down on the bed, the bed they had bought when they moved in to the apartment, the bed she thought of as _their_ bed, and she began to cry.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: It seems like it took forever to get this chapter out, and I'm still not happy with it, but at least it's an update. And a liitle longer than usual. (So there's more of the not-so-good stuff. So much for that "bonus.") Anyway, thanks for your patience

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own Except OCs, etc.

Ann got a call from Danielle that night at about six-thirty. She was trying to tell Ann something, but she was too upset and crying too much for Ann to figure it out.

So, Ann left House cooking dinner and went over to see Danielle. Through hiccups and sobs, Danielle told Ann that Chase had left and that she had no idea why. Ann didn't know what to do, other than knowing that she couldn't leave Danielle alone. So, she helped Danielle pack her own bag and she took her over to their place.

Dinner was about ready when they arrived, not that Danielle could eat anything. House was annoyed at the intrusion, of course, but he also understood why it was necessary. And he was even more intrigued by Chase's behavior.

He wasn't about to attempt to patch things up between Danielle and Chase (he wasn't a do-gooder, for pity's sake), but he did want to know what had happened.

Finding out could be as easy as asking Chase what was going on, but House doubted it. And, he was not looking forward to using his usual techniques – subterfuge and stalking. That was unlike him to be reluctant to be deceptive.

It might have been the counseling, or it might have been Ann's influence, or it might have been that he didn't need as much of a distraction for the pain in his leg or elsewhere, but it no longer seemed as entertaining to him to trick other people into revealing their secrets. (Mind you, he still did it with his patients, but that was in a diagnostic setting where it was necessary to save their lives, and he didn't enjoy it nearly as much as he used to.)

So, he'd have to figure out some other way to get at the truth.

The evening passed slowly as Danielle cried and Ann attempted to comfort her. They were both pretty worn out.

At bedtime, Danielle was safely, if not happily, ensconced in one of the guest bedrooms. House had called in a script for a sleep aid for her and he had gone to pick it up. He didn't want Ann up all night sitting with her because that meant she wouldn't be with him. Or at least that's what he told himself was the reason.

Ann came into their bedroom after making sure Danielle was asleep. Ann had grown out of most of her clothes and hadn't bothered to buy much maternity wear yet. She had a few pairs of jeans and tops to wear during the day. At night, she had taken to pulling out a t-shirt of House's and a pair of his boxers from the laundry hamper to wear to bed.

Before long, they would be too tight as well, but until then, House was enjoying the way it made him feel to see her in them. He couldn't really explain what it did for him. It might be because it was cute, what with her waddling around in a man's clothes. But she wasn't big enough yet to truly waddle, and House had never liked cute.

Maybe it was because they were _his_ clothes. There was something he couldn't quite define about having the woman that he loved, the woman who was pregnant with his child, surrounding her skin with something that reeked of him (and depending upon how hot the day had been, that could be literally true). It was intimate and accepting and it demonstrated how much she liked having him be a part of her. It was yet another way her actions made him feel wanted and loved.

"What did Danielle say happened?" House asked, pulling his mind away from his pleasant thoughts and getting back into mystery-solving mode.

"Not much," Ann replied. "It was tough to get anything out of her because she was so upset."

"Yeah, yeah, her main squeeze up and left. She must have some idea why."

"Not according to her. She thought everything was going great."

"She did say the same thing to me today when she was waiting for Chase. How did she find out he was calling it quits? Did he leave a note or something?"

"Well, you know she was supposed to pick up Robert at the hospital. He texted her that he was leaving to go home. At first, she thought he just forgot she was going to give him a ride. When she got to their apartment, he was packing a bag. He left the apartment telling her he couldn't be with her anymore."

"That's it? He didn't say why?"

"Nope. He said he wasn't ready to talk about it, and that he may never be ready."

"Hmm."

"What? My best friend in the whole world is a basket case and all you can say is 'hmm'?"

"Hey, take it easy, Annie. This isn't my fault."

"Sorry, baby. I'm just frustrated that I can't do anything."

"Hey, I know a way to deal with frustration."

"I'm not sure I can. I mean, Danielle . . . "

"Danielle what? Just because she's not getting it doesn't mean she'd want you to stop, too."

"No, that's not what I meant. She's not envious like that. I'm just saying I'm upset enough for her that I don't know if I can concentrate."

"And there's no guilt that you're being made happy, or at least getting a little something-something, while she's deprived?"

"Well, I guess there's that, too."

"Knew it."

There was a pause in the conversation. House decided that playful sex was not a great idea, given Ann's mood. He thought that comfort sex might work. Hey, as long as it was sex, right?

Between her hormones and the fact that they'd hadn't had a lot of problems to deal with of late, their intimacy had been based almost exclusively on physical need and lust.

Not that House was complaining. He liked the hot, sweaty variety of sex as well as the next man. Or maybe even a little better. But he had missed expressing his emotional closeness to Ann through physical actions. This was especially important for him, since his verbal expressions of affection were scant and not very good, or so he believed.

House pulled Ann close to him and began tenderly kissing and touching her face. He felt a slight jab of pain when he heard her soft, sad sigh. Hearing that sound made him feel something intense in his chest, and it made him want to keep going.

He continued to give her soft kisses on her face and neck as his hands traveled gently down her body. He stopped first at her breasts, cupping them and lightly rubbing the pads of his thumbs across her nipples. She reacted by arching her back and moaning softly.

As he had been doing quite a bit recently, House was trying to imagine her breasts in a few months, when they would be engorged with milk. He was never one of those guys who had lactation fantasies, but, if she had any extra after feeding the kid and pumping, he might try a little, to see what it tasted like. Just to satisfy his scientific curiosity. And his dick getting hard when he thought about it was just a coincidence. Honestly.

His hands found their way to Ann's abdomen. It was round enough now that she looked pregnant, at least when she was naked. In her clothes she just looked a little, well, plump. It wouldn't be long before Ann could feel the fetus move.

House had mixed feelings about that. He didn't want to be one of those idiot men who got all emotional about feeling his child move inside its mother's uterus. It was biology, after all. It was a fetus reaching a sufficient size that its movements were perceptible to the woman carrying it, nothing more.

Nothing that he should have any emotions about, even if Ann invited him to touch her belly when it happened, or if she happened to be in bed next to him and he felt it because he was lying against her. Nope. Just normal fetal development.

Then why did something stir in him at the thought of it? It must be another of those evolution-connection thingies where parents were rewarded with endorphins for feeling affection for their children and each other. More biology, that's all.

He also knew they were getting close to the time when they could do an ultrasound and determine the sex of the fetus.

The idea of finding out from the test if the fetus was male or female didn't really mean much to him one way or the other. He knew there were some couples who decided that they liked to be "surprised" and didn't want to know until the baby was born. House thought that was idiotic. If you found out at four and a half or five months versus nine months, what did that matter?

Besides, if Ann wanted him to go to the procedure with her, and he was guessing she would, he really wouldn't have much choice. He could read an ultrasound as well any idiot ultrasound tech or OB/GYN, and he would be able to see the sex of the fetus. If Ann decided she didn't want to know, that might be more of an issue. Even then, House could most likely keep his mouth shut. Everybody lies, right?

Of course, the bigger question was how they felt about the gender the fetus actually turned out to be. House knew Ann's relationship to her mother was strained and cold. He had not been able to figure out why. He guessed there was some history there, even if Ann didn't know what it was. In any case, Ann wasn't inclined to pursue it, so House felt, out of respect for her, he had to let it go. Although he wasn't above asking Tom about it, if he could ever get a chance to talk to the guy without Ann around.

Anyway, because of all that, Ann had said she wanted a girl. Since she couldn't be close to her mother, Ann had decided she would be close to her daughter instead. That was fine, but what if it was a boy? House didn't know what would happen then, and he worried about it. He wasn't sure how he would relate to a boy because of his own troubled relationship with John. And if Ann was less then enthusiastic about a son, it could be a real problem.

Well, now was as good a time as any to feel her out about it, since he was already feeling her up.

"You know we're going to be able to find out the sex of the baby soon," House stated as he continued to caress her abdomen.

"Yes," Ann replied. "Do you want to know now?"

"Well, it's not like I can avoid it, since I know how to read an ultrasound."

"True."

"Do _you_ want to know?"

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"Good. That's settled."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Were you going to ask me something else?"

"Um, yeah. I know you said you wanted a girl, so you could make up for some things that happened between you and your mom. What if it's a boy?"

"What if it is a boy? Do you have problems with that?"

"I hope I don't. I just don't have a really positive role-model for being a father to a son. And if you don't want a boy . . . "

"I'm not anticipating any issues."

"You sound awfully confident. Why?"

"Because I know that you'll be a good dad."

"On what do you base that conclusion?"

"You're the most loving man I've ever known."

"I suppose now wouldn't be a good time to snort in derision."

"I stand by statement. You are a loving, generous man."

"I'm going to set aside that dubious assertion for now. But you still haven't said anything about how _you_ would feel having a son."

"I'm been thinking about that lately. I'm picturing a thin little boy with sandy brown hair, long fingers and the bluest eyes in his class, or even his whole school. An intelligent, sensitive boy, who most likely would be irreverent and would develop a sardonic sense of humor long before the rest of the kids his age. A little rebellious at times, but still able to love deeply . . . "

"And?"

"And who wouldn't want to nurture and adore such an exquisite child?"

House knew Ann was talking as much about him as she was about a son they might have. And that it was also a commentary on his own childhood as well as a prediction of how she would feel about their son. It reminded House of the hurt he had felt growing up in a family that just didn't understand him, along with hope that maybe he – they – could do better this time around.

House was feeling a little overwhelmed – deflection time. "Are you trying to tell me that he'll take after me, so he'll be a pain in the ass?"

Ann knew he really couldn't deal with everything she was saying without pushing some of the emotion away. "Yeah, but I love people who are pains in the ass."

"I guess you do," House said softly. He had stopped rubbing her belly and was looking into her eyes and caressing her face again.

"Greg, I'm glad we spent some time talking about this. But if we're going to do anything, we should probably do it. I don't know when Dani's going to wake up, and I need to get some rest before that."

"Are you tired?" House asked, unable to mask the concern in his voice. "Do you want me to stop and just hold you?"

"Your holding me isn't a 'just.' "

"What?"

"Don't diminish it with that modifier. Your holding me is never a small or insignificant thing."

"It seems to me I remember a discussion way back when we were first together in which you told me the cuddling wasn't as good as the sex."

"Just my luck to be marrying a man with the memory of an elephant. I did say that. But it's different now."

"How?"

"I don't know. It's just that, even though I loved you then – I love you so much more now."

"And that makes cuddling better than sex how?"

"Not better. Just more satisfying than it was before."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because I can feel the emotion. I can feel the love between us."

Ann sensed that House was becoming overwhelmed again. "Although, there is nothing quite like a hot, sweaty, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am."

"True," House smiled. He pulled her even closer to him and put his lips over hers. He pushed his tongue into her mouth.

The next few moments were taken over by some tender caresses, along with much kissing, licking and nibbling. Although things were very pleasant physically, Ann sensed a little distance on House's part.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked as they paused to take a breath.

"Nothing. Um, nothing much," he repeated himself.

"C'mon, Greg."

"It's a good thing you don't need the cuddling because I don't hold you very much, do I? I mean the sex is fantastic, but I don't touch you very often other than when we're doing it."

"Well, you're not a touchy-feely guy."

"Do you miss that?"

"It's not like I didn't know it going in to our relationship. You told me that was the case."

"The fact that you acknowledge you were prepared for it tells me you admire my honesty, but it doesn't answer the question I asked. Do you miss being held?"

"You do hold me."

"Yeah, when we're having sex."

"And other times."

"Like when?"

"When I first told you about the rape, when I told you about how they kept filling my mouth with cum until I choked, when he called me and I was terrified . . . "

"So, other than in cases of extreme duress, when any human being with even an ounce of compassion would do the same, I don't hold you."

"I'm sure there are other times."

"Name them."

Ann paused, thinking. "I can't. I must be upset about Danielle and Robert and I can't think. I've also noticed my memory isn't as good since I've been pregnant. It must be the hormones."

"Which explains memory lapses, but doesn't give any examples of when I hold you."

"Why does this matter, anyway? I'm not complaining."

"You aren't, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother you. That it won't become a thing."

"And that doesn't mean it will, either."

"I just don't want . . . "

"What?"

"Chase just left Danielle for no apparent reason. At least she has no idea what it is. I don't want to come home one day and find you packing and leaving me, and not even know why."

"I'm not leaving you. And if I even start to entertain the idea, which I can't imagine I would, I promise to try to work things out before I pack so much as a pair of socks, okay?"

"Okay. About the holding thing . . . "

"Greg, I know that isn't your favorite thing to do. That it's outside your comfort zone."

"Well, why don't we try it anyway and see how it goes?"

"Okay. Wait a minute? Did I just talk my man out of some mind-blowing sex?"

"Yup."

"I'm such an idiot."

"True. And you might need this more than you think."

Ann settled into House's arms.

"This is great," Ann remarked. "But, while we're on the subject, there is one thing I'd like that I don't get enough of."

"What?" House asked, his voice showing concern.

"You remember that gift certificate I gave you at Christmas for massages?"

"Yes."

"How come you never use it?"

"You're pregnant, and I don't want to tire you out."

"In the second trimester, fatigue is rarely an issue. It certainly isn't for me. And you know that, so why aren't you asking me?"

"With the pain meds, I haven't been hurting nearly as much."

"How much?"

"I'm down to a three most days, unless I really push myself."

"That still sounds significant, at least to me."

"It's not; not really. So, the massages aren't necessary."

"You know, sometimes it isn't about necessity."

"What?"

"Sometimes it's just about having your body feel good."

"I don't need that."

"I just said, it isn't about need. It's called pleasure. And you are allowed to have that, you know."

"I know."

"And yet, you don't sound convinced."

"Must be my upbringing. Tough-as-nails marines never indulged themselves with sissy activities purely to make themselves feel good. I guess I have a hard time doing things, at least things like this, purely for pleasure."

"I'm thinking it might have been better for everyone concerned if your tight-ass father did fewer drills and got himself massages more often."

"Possibly . . . "

"Anyway, you don't have to be like him."

"I hope to hell I'm not."

"And, just because you're _merely_ in pain, and not in _agony_, doesn't mean this won't help you. What if a massage got you from a three or a two to a one? Isn't that worth making the effort?"

"Yes. It is for me, at least. But it's hard to see what you get out of it."

"Seriously? Let me ask you something. Does it make you feel good when you help me?"

"Yes."

"Why wouldn't you think I'd feel the same way when I do something for you?"

There was a pause. The conversation was getting very uncomfortable for House. Truth be told, he was still, in some areas of his life, operating under the assumptions and constraints his father had imposed. And one of those assumptions was that it was a display of weakness to need or want comfort, and another was that House himself wasn't worthy of receiving it.

House had worked on this issue with Nolan. At least part of House's problem had been internalizing John's programming that House was inherently inferior. House had come through a lot of that at his job. It was demonstrable to pretty much anyone that he was very good at what he did, and he'd decided not to let the people he worked with treat him with anything less than respect. Although House would never turn down a monetary settlement from the hospital, the lawsuit was at least as much about making sure everyone knew he would no longer tolerate people shitting on him.

He hadn't made quite as much progress on the personal front. Part of it was that he wasn't as good at relationships and emotions as he was at diagnosis. Another part was that John's systematic undermining of him had been less about House's abilities and achievements (since those were hard to deny), but more about his emotions. House had been trained from an early age to view his own feelings as inadequate.

And that was why, for so many years, he denied and repressed them. With sex and drugs and rock and roll. Mostly the drugs part. And with mocking other people for _their_ emotions.

And that's what really made him crazy when everything happened – Amber dying, losing Wilson and not really getting him back, losing whatever relationship, no matter how stunted, he had with Cuddy when she adopted Rachael, then Kutner, the fellow most like House, except for the cynicism, killing himself. After all those losses, what House felt couldn't be suppressed any longer, no matter how much Vicodin he took. And the emotional pain he could no longer block once he started to detox hurt as much as the physical withdrawal.

But, hadn't he come through that? Hadn't he decided in therapy that his goal was to be happy?

Once House recognized what was going on – that he was denying himself pleasure because he was accepting what John programmed into him, he decided he wasn't going to do that any more.

Ann waited while House finished his thoughts. She didn't know exactly what was going on in that massive brain of his, or what his conclusions would be, so she decided on a pre-emptive strike. "So, when am I giving you your next massage?"

"How about this weekend?"

"Danielle said she had an early morning meeting tomorrow, so how about after she leaves?"

"You're not going to be too tired?"

"Hormones, remember?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They finally went to sleep, still holding each other.

House woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing. He got up, peed, washed his hands and headed to the kitchen. Danielle was up, showered and dressed. She and Ann had finished breakfast. Ann said something to Danielle about having to do taxes as she headed back to the bedroom.

Despite quite a bit of makeup, it was still obvious Danielle had had a bad night.

She must have seen House looking at her. "That awful, huh? Do you think I can convince anyone it's a hangover?"

"That might work," House admitted as he pulled his bagel out of the toaster oven and began to spread it with cream cheese. "Listen, do you have any idea why he decided to leave?"

"None at all. That's what makes this even harder. If I knew it was something I said or did, I could talk to him about it or try to fix it somehow. I don't even know what to say to him."

"You're sure you haven't done anything to piss him off?"

"Like what?"

"How the hell should I know? Re-arranging his CD collection?"

"He has all his music on downloads, and I haven't touched his I-pod or his laptop."

"Nagging him about taking out the garbage?"

"I never seem to need to tell him. He just does it."

Both House and Danielle had momentary mental images of a kid trying to deal with the chaos of having an alcoholic mother by cleaning up after himself and her, including taking out garbage that must have reeked on all those hot days in Australia.

"Did he find out you're getting something on the side?"

"Yeah, that's it. I just wanted someone better-looking. Are you kidding me? How do you step up from him?"

"He is very pretty, it's true. Did he leave you for someone else?"

"I guess that's possible. But, I don't think so. When he left, he seemed hurt, like I'd done something to him, which wouldn't make sense if he were cheating on me."

"So, it remains a puzzle."

"Listen . . . "

"What?"

"You're good at solving mysteries, right?"

"_Medical_ ones, yes."

"Can you help me out here?"

"By doing what, exactly?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe figuring out why he's so angry and hurt."

"Hi. I don't think we've met. I'm Greg House and I suck at feelings."

"You must have some facility with emotions, seeing as how you've been in a good relationship for about a year now."

"That's all Annie's doing, not mine."

"I doubt that. Can you do something?"

"No guarantees. And, if by some snowball's-chance-in-hell I do find out what's wrong and he makes me promise not to tell you, all bets are off."

"Fair enough."

Danielle went to work and House went to the bedroom to get ready for his massage.

Ann was putting the last of the laundry away. "Get on the bed, face down, with all your clothes off."

"I love a woman with attitude." House smiled slightly and did was he was told.

Ann came over and sat on the bed next to him. She put some cream on her hands and began massaging his shoulders. House practically melted into her touch. He'd forgotten how good this made him feel. Things were even beginning to stir a bit elsewhere.

His mind put that on pause as he puzzled over something Ann had said to Danielle earlier. Might as well ask.

"Hey," House questioned, "When you were in the kitchen before and you left to go to the bedroom, you said something to Danielle about doing taxes. What was that about?"

Ann smiled a bit. "It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere for the next, oh, hour or so. Spill it."

"Kevin and I had a lot of acquaintances who were accountants and financial types. There was this one guy we knew whose name was Bob and his wife was named Susan. They had a daughter, Meghan, who was eight or nine at the time."

"I'm with you so far."

"Well, Susan's parents were elderly and not well. She was an only child, so she was the only one to take care of them. Her mother became ill enough that Susan decided to stay with her parents for an extended period, and she brought Meghan with her."

"Mmm."

"They lived near each other in the same city, but Susan and Bob didn't see much of each other, since they both were working and she was over at her mom and dad's. Every so often, they'd decide they needed a conjugal visit . . . "

"Now it's getting interesting . . . "

"We're talking about accountants, so don't get your expectations too high. Anyway, one time they were trying to get together, and Meghan, who missed her dad, wanted to come along. She was rather insistent, in fact. So, they told her she really wouldn't want to be with them, since they were going to be working really hard on their taxes, which would be very boring for a little girl."

"I take it that worked."

"Uh-huh. Susan and Meghan stayed at her parent's house for another three months until Susan's mom went into remission. Bob and Susan 'worked on their taxes' well into the fall."

"Good thing eight-year-olds don't know about April fifteenth."

"And that you can only file extensions until September."

"So, 'working on your taxes' is a code phrase for – "

"Doing it. Yep."

"And you felt it was necessary to share that with Danielle?"

"It's just something we do. I thought it would make it feel more normal for her if I said something like that to her. You don't care that I said it, do you?"

"You mean that she knows you're going to get some nookie? Not at all."

"I didn't think so."

Ann continued the massage, working his shoulders and back. She moved lower and massaged his butt.

"Did they really teach you butt massage at that sixties-commune place you went for classes?"

"No, they didn't. A legitimate masseuse wouldn't work on this part of the body for a client. So, there was no instruction about this."

"So, how do you know what to do?"

"I'm just applying the principles I learned about working on other areas. This is really just a big muscle, as you well know."

"Gluteus maximus . . . " House mumbled contentedly as Ann worked away. After giving his behind sufficient attention, Ann tore herself away from one of her favorite parts of his body and massaged the backs of his legs.

Thus far, he hadn't had a lot of tension, which was very good. As much as Ann liked relieving his pain, it was even better to massage him solely for his enjoyment.

She applied more cream to her hands. She reached for his right foot. When his leg was really bad, this foot actually was the one in better shape because he didn't put much weight on his leg, and this foot, other than being pulled up somewhat at the heel, didn't have much force applied to it.

His left foot bore the brunt of the pressure when his leg was in intense pain. It would be forced to carry almost all his weight and be pounded as he limped along. The fact that he used his cane on the wrong side also aggravated his left foot. Less pain in his leg meant fewer problems, but he still had to compensate for his limited limb. So, this foot needed a little extra TLC.

Ann knew she was having the desired effect when she had House roll over on to his back. As she continued to rub his foot, she saw his erection growing. Ann decided at that moment to take a little detour from his massage.

She eased herself down on her knees at the end of the bed, and took his foot back into her hands. Instead of massaging his foot, she started to kiss it, beginning with his narrow heel. She covered his sole in kisses moving slowly up, past his arch, to the ball of his foot. She noted his erection growing as he moaned softly.

She stopped kissing and moved back down to his heel. She began licking his sole, alternating between flattening her tongue over a wide area, and flicking the tip.

"Shit, Annie!" House hissed as he tried to pull his foot away. Ann had a strong grip around his ankle and continued, oblivious to his apparent discomfort. This time, when she reached his toes, she didn't stop. She took each toe in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. After she finished that, she separated his toes and licked thoroughly in between each one.

She paused very briefly after she was done, and House thought she was finished.

"Mustn't neglect this foot," she murmured softly as she grabbed his right ankle. Because of all the licking she had already done, the outside of her mouth was wet, producing some very sloppy kisses as she traveled up his sole, again finishing the kissing at the ball of his foot.

Her knees were starting to get sore at this point, so she sat down on the floor. House hoped this meant an end to his torment, but it didn't. Ann put her head back and pulled his foot over her face. Her tongue began lapping at his heel and she continued until she reached his toes, again taking each one into her mouth swirling around it with her tongue, and licking in-between. House was bucking his hips and incoherent noises were making their way out of his mouth.

"Sorry about that little diversion," Ann said quietly as she finished and began to massage the front of his ankles and legs.

House settled back down a bit. His erection was still at full height, but he wasn't straining quite so much.

He lost some wood as she reached his scar. God, how could she stand to look at anything so ugly, let alone touch it? He noticed that she was much less tentative than the last time she touched him there. She was becoming familiar with the contours of the missing muscle and how much pressure she could apply.

House snuck a look at her. She didn't seem disgusted by what she doing. She had a look of mild concentration, like she was paying attention, but no revulsion, or, even worse, pity on her face. It looked like it was just another part of his body to her. House relaxed a bit.

She took him by complete surprise when she bent down and gave him a soft, lingering kiss right in the middle of the scar. He didn't have the time to comment as her hands began traveling up to caress his hip bones, pulling his attention elsewhere. And speaking of bones, or, more correctly, boners, it was returning.

After she lingered at his hips for a while, she moved on to his belly, chest and shoulders. She gently pulled him diagonally on the bed and sat near his head. She did a little more work on his shoulders and the back of his neck, and then she gave him a lengthy scalp massage. It was so good that House even forgot to worry about his ever-growing bald spot.

When Ann finished with the massage, she straddled House and took a ride. Their climax was slow and intense. Even though it was a summer morning at seven and the sun was already up, they fell back into a much-needed sleep.


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.

A/N: As you can tell from my previous notes, I'm struggling with this story. And then, my first review of the previous chapter compared what I wrote to Full House. Yikes! Talk about an ego withdrawal! And then only two reviews total! Are my readers trying to tell me that they don't like this story anymore? That it's going in the wrong direction, has gotten boring, etc.? Even a review that said that would be helpful. I think this chapter is better than the last. I've never considered myself someone who writes to get reviews, but I'm stumped by the lack of them. I'm getting almost as many favorites and alerts on my Huddy story Domestication, and I haven't updated that since March. C'mon, House/OC people, show me you care or at least tell me what you don't like!

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

House and Ann woke up at eleven. They enjoyed a nude lunch. They both decided they really had to get dressed since Danielle was going to be there after work. They showered together for some good clean fun, as House called it. Afterward, Ann went to the living room to try to get some work done.

It was a Friday and House didn't have a case, so he was seriously tempted to blow off work and stay with Ann. This was especially true since he assumed Danielle wouldn't want to go back to her apartment anytime soon. If that were the case, she would be a distraction for Ann this weekend and possibly beyond, so House thought his time alone with Ann would be limited.

The decision not to go to PPTH was made for him when Foreman called and let him know that a water main had broken under the street in front of the hospital. Of course, the hospital couldn't function without water. It also didn't look like the repairs would be completed until at least Monday, since it was going to take more than a day, and there was no money for overtime in the city's budget that would allow for people to work on the weekend.

Foreman, Taub and Thirteen were at the hospital evacuating the patients to other hospitals. House wondered why he hadn't been called in. Cuddy probably didn't want to piss him off because of the lawsuit.

Of course, the fact that a cripple simply couldn't lift patients or push gurneys wouldn't be under consideration, nor would the fact that he had zero administrative skills and couldn't even coordinate or process paperwork.

In any case, he was just glad he didn't have to spend what remained of the day arguing with her about why it would be useless for him to come in.

It was perfect timing and a good way to get out of work without getting in trouble or having to use his vacation. The only problem was Chase. Since House wasn't going to work, and it looked like Chase hadn't even shown up, there was no way House could talk to him about what happened.

Of course, that didn't keep House from running a DDX in his mind. What had actually gone wrong between Chase and Danielle? It seemed like the major stuff, like one partner cheating on the other, wasn't in play here. And he didn't think there were other deal-breaker-type things, like serious substance abuse. Danielle didn't appear to be into booze or drugs. Ann would have been concerned about it if she were, which meant that House would at least know about it.

House was awre that Chase could tie one on, and he suspected Chase had probably done just that the night before, but he didn't think he'd been doing that on any consistent basis since he'd hooked up with Danielle. Besides, if it had been Chase's problem, Danielle would have left _him_, not the other way around.

The other big issues with couples usually involved finances. Chase's father had cut him off from the family fortune, and House knew the inheritance went to the stepmom, not Chase. So, Chase had been forced to become pretty frugal trying to live on the salary House paid him.

If Danielle's salary was similar to Ann's, she made a decent living, but she couldn't afford to be a spendthrift, either, and House had no inkling that she was. In any case, since Chase and Danielle weren't married, and had only been living together a short time, they probably hadn't dealt with most of this financial stuff yet.

So, it looked like none of the relationship biggies were involved. That was good news for Chase and Danielle, but it made House's job of trying to figure things out that much more difficult.

There was something else nagging at the back of House's brain. He didn't want to admit he might be concerned about what was happening to Chase. He thought he was probably just sleeping off a hangover somewhere, but what if he wasn't?

House had been high enough to vomit and pass out that Christmas when Tritter was coming after him. So much had been going on then, and he'd gone back to using Vicodin afterward, so he hadn't really thought about what might have happened until after his detox at Mayfield. If he hadn't passed out lying on his side, he might have aspirated. Since he was alone, he could have died.

It was one of the things that he'd had to ignore to keep his relationship with Wilson going, as a matter of fact. Wilson had found him lying there like that and had left in disgust. House could understand that Wilson would be pissed. After all, House had stolen the medication from Wilson's dead patient.

House could also understand after everything both he and Tritter had done that Wilson was not in a state to be calm and rational. But still, Wilson, as a doctor, had to know how dangerous a situation it was to leave an addict, who had already thrown up, on the floor passed out.

And if Wilson didn't want to deal with it himself, why hadn't he left and called an ambulance? House wouldn't have liked it at the time, that was certain, but how many times had Wilson done something House didn't like, at least nominally for House's own good?

All this was just painful history at this point. But, House didn't want to rely on luck with Chase. He decided to try his cell phone first. As House suspected would happen, Chase didn't answer. Most likely, it was because he saw House on the caller id and decided he didn't want to talk to him. Since Ann and Danielle were best friends, Chase had to know that House was aware by now what was going on, and he was probably trying to avoid dealing with him.

Well, then, assuming the worst hadn't happened, and that Chase wasn't dead in an alley somewhere, House needed to find him. How to do that? Danielle had said Chase told her that he was going to a hotel.

House made it his business to find out the credit card numbers of his employees. Not so he could use them (unless it was an emergency), but so he could check on their activities, if needed, by checking the charges. This would be the perfect time to use that information to go on line and find out where Chase was staying. The trouble was that the credit information was in an envelope stashed behind some books in House's office at the hospital. House wasn't about to incur the wrath of Cuddy the She-Witch going there to get it.

Also, the usefulness of checking the credit card charges was based upon the supposition that Chase was charging the cost of the room. If he was paying cash, it wouldn't help.

House needed another way. Why not make some assumptions here? Assume that Chase was going to want to show up for work at some point, so he would choose a place that wasn't too far from Princeton Plainsboro. Maybe a radius of ten miles or less? And assume that Chase didn't have the money to spring for a luxury hotel. Also, he might consider an extended stay place if he thought he was going to be there for a while. House powered up his laptop and did a search.

He came up with three possibilities. His first step was to drive to each of them and see if Chase's car were in the parking lot.

It was about three o'clock when House took off. He told Ann he planned to be home for dinner, but he wasn't sure if he would be. He also didn't give her many details. He didn't want Danielle to be disappointed if he either couldn't find Chase, Chase refused to talk to him, or House couldn't find out why Chase had left. House didn't have high expectations himself, but he was curious enough (and sufficiently concerned, even though he wouldn't admit it) that he had to try.

The first hotel was one of those low-end chain motels, with corridors on the outside and parking places in front of the rooms. It would have been great if Chase were at one of these places, because House most likely could figure out which room he was in by where his car was parked. House didn't find Chase's car, unfortunately.

Of course, Chase could have gone somewhere, like to a drugstore for, say, aspirin or Pepto. So, House stopped in the lobby and asked to leave a message. When the clerk couldn't find Robert Chase as a guest, House moved on to another location.

The same thing happened at the next low-cost motel chain. No car and the clerk saying no one named Chase was staying there. It was possible that Chase was using an alias, but most places that weren't completely disreputable asked for either a credit card or a driver's license, especially if you wanted to keep your vehicle in the parking lot. Given the haste with which Chase had left, there was no way he'd have the chance to get a fake ID, even if he had any idea how to go about it.

The third place was an extended stay hotel, with interior corridors, and a central parking lot for all the guests. If Chase were here, it would be more difficult for House to figure out where Chase's room was, at least without the help of the desk clerk.

House spotted Chase's car in the lot. He was able to park fairly close to the entrance without needing to use a handicapped space.

House walked slowly into the lobby, exaggerating his limp as much as possible. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do, but he knew he couldn't hide the limp and be inconspicuous, so he might as well go for sympathy.

"Are you okay, sir?" the young woman behind the desk asked as he approached. House sized her up. It was a Friday afternoon and she was either tired from a long week, or she was the beginning of the weekend shift, which was probably not the "A" list of employees. In either case, House believed he had a decent shot at manipulating her. He thought he'd start with the pity gambit, since she had asked about him.

"Oh, it's nothing, just an old war wound," he deadpanned. It pleased him no end to think of John spinning in his grave right now.

"Thank you for your service, sir," the "B" List clerk responded. "How can I help you?"

"Well," House hesitated theatrically, "It's about my son. He's a guest here at the hotel, I believe."

"What's his name?"

"Robert Chase."

"Oh, yes, I see he is a guest here. Would you like me to call him and tell him you're in the lobby?" the clerk asked helpfully.

"It's a little more complicated than that," House hedged. He still wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this, but he hoped he'd figure it out.

"In what way, sir?" the clerk asked pleasantly.

"Well, he's home on leave from Afghanistan and I just got out of the VA hospital myself," House put his hand on his leg and grimaced for effect. "He was staying with his mother, my ex, and she kept him so busy that he didn't have time to visit me."

"Did she do that on purpose?" the clerk asked indignantly.

"Well, she and I haven't really gotten along since I came home from Vietnam and found out she was cheating on me."

Of course, House had never served in Vietnam. For one thing, the war ended when House was thirteen. He was hoping that this woman was a bad enough judge of age, and ignorant enough of history that she couldn't figure it out. He was right on both counts.

"How terrible," the clerk stated. "Has she been causing trouble for you since?"

"Yes," House replied. "I've been trying to see my son before he goes back over there, but between my being ill and everything she's done to stop it, I haven't been able to."

"That's so sad," the clerk empathized. "Why don't I call him and let him know you're here?"

House paused for a second and hoped he wasn't going over the top. "Actually, I'd really like to surprise him, if I could. Would you give me his room number?"

"Sir," the clerk hesitated, "That's against hotel policy."

"Please?" House asked, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. "It would mean so much to two soldiers."

"You have to promise not to tell my boss," the clerk responded, looking around conspiratorially. "He's in room 412. Just go straight towards the guest lounge, take a right, and the elevators will be on your left. When you get to the fourth floor, his room will be on the right."

"Thank you _so_ much."

"No, thank you for your service to our country, sir."

House limped slowly away, for additional dramatic effect. He followed the clueless clerk's directions, and in five minutes, he found himself outside Chase's door. House still had to figure out a way to get Chase to open it.

Ordinarily, when House wanted to get someone to come to the door, he used his cane to pound on it. He decided against that because he didn't want Chase to know it was him.

House's balled-up fist made contact with the door.

"Who the hell is it?" Chase asked from inside with a groan. His voice was thick with irritation. He was either pissed because he was with a hooker and didn't want to be interrupted, or he was massively hung over and didn't want to deal with anything but worshipping the porcelain god.

"Maintenance," House replied with a thick Hispanic accent.

"I didn't call maintenance," Chase argued weakly.

"Says on the work order you got a problem with your toilet," House shouted into the door as loudly as he could, still maintaining the thick accent. "Gotta come in and look at it."

"All right, all right," Chase moaned from inside. "I'll be there in a minute."

House heard Chase stumble, out of bed, most likely, and lumber toward the entrance to the room. He didn't have the presence of mind to look though the peephole when he opened the door. House pushed inside before Chase even knew what was happening.

Chase looked about as bad as House imagined he would. His hair was plastered down in some spots and sticking up wildly in others. His clothes were disheveled and smelled like vomit. His skin was pale. His eyes were red-rimmed. That could be from being hung over, but, House realized with some discomfort, that could also be from crying.

Chase grasped very quickly who he had inadvertently let in, but it was too late.

"What the hell?" Chase exclaimed more than asked.

"There's my wayward employee!" House shouted a little too loudly in the enclosed space.

"Just shut up," Chase commanded as he massaged his temples. "Or, at least keep your goddamn voice down."

"There's no need for swearing," House observed in mock indignation as he made his way into the room.

"What the hell do you want?" Chase questioned as he closed the door.

"Three guesses," House answered as he eased himself into an overstuffed chair in the sitting area.

"I am _not_ going to talk to you about Danielle," Chase insisted as he carefully lowered himself into the opposite chair. "How the hell did you get in here, anyway?"

"With subterfuge, of course," House admitted.

"What did you tell them?"

"Since I'm not here to discuss how clever I am, let's just say it would have seriously pissed off my late father and leave it at that. So, what's going on?"

"I told you before that I'm not going to talk to you about what happened with Danielle and me."

"And you know how persistent I can be with a mystery. Some have called it obsessive. Since I don't have a case, and since your significant other is cramping my style by crashing at our place, I have every motivation to find out why you left."

"Well, as long as it ultimately winds up being about you, then I guess I'd better tell you."

"Knew you'd see it my way."

"She doesn't love me and she thinks I don't love her."

"Pretty bold statement. Totally wrong, but impressive in its forcefulness nevertheless."

"It's not wrong. You of all people should know that."

"Huh? I suck at reading people's emotions, so why me especially? I can only go by what I've observed, and given how much crying there was last night, she does love you. Quite a bit."

"She was crying?"

"And upset enough to need a sedative to sleep."

"Maybe she was hurt over something else."

"She comes home, finds you packing and leaving her, and something else is bothering her _more_? That's one unlucky chick."

"It doesn't make sense. Why would it bother her that I left?"

"Because she loves you."

"But why would she love me if she thinks I don't love her?"

"Do you?"

"Of course I do. I'm staying in this crappy hotel because it hurts too much to go back to our place. I spent the night getting totally wasted just to blot out the pain."

"Okay, so we've established that she loves you and that you love her. So why did you leave?"

"She doesn't love me! At least she shouldn't. Why would you love anyone that you believe doesn't love you?"

"This is the second time you said you think that she thinks you don't love her."

"I know she thinks that."

"Based on what?"

"The conversation you had with her yesterday."

"What?"

"You know, the one where you called her the Anti-Cameron and she agreed."

"Wait a minute. You weren't there when we were talking. How do you know about that?"

"My phone rang and I picked it up. I heard you and Danielle."

"Interesting. What specifically did we say?"

"Well, she was waiting for me, and you started to do a DDX on our relationship, in your incredibly insensitive way."

"You know me _so_ well . . . "

"Anyway, you started to list all the ways she's not like Cameron."

"I remember that part."

"Then, using your cruelly detached methods, you said that our being together was a puzzle because I'm a ten and she's a three."

"Actually, I said she was a six or a seven."

"Whatever. Anyway, you then threw out a theory that I was with her only because she was the Anti-Cameron. And she agreed with you."

"I remember that, too."

"At that point, I was too damn mad to continue listening, so I hung up. It's bad enough that you have the nerve to dissect my personal relationships, but that's what you do. It's like a dog licking its cock - not pleasant to watch but not surprising, either."

"That's sort of an ugly metaphor."

"You taught me well. And then for her to agree with your stupid conclusion! What was I supposed to think? All this time I've been loving her without reservation and she thinks I'm only with her because I'm on the rebound? That I don't love her for her, after everything I've said and done to show her that I do."

"She doesn't think you don't love her."

"She said she did."

"Memory serves, she said she could understand why _I_ might think that way."

"Same thing."

"Hardly. Especially when you consider what she said after that."

"That doesn't matter."

"Spoken like a true, objective scientist seeking all the facts."

"This isn't some lab experiment or a DDX – "

"So, your contention is that even basic rules of logic and common sense don't apply here."

"I never said that."

"No, something damn close to it, though. Aren't you even curious?"

"Not really, but I don't suppose that will stop you from telling me."

"True. She did say that she thought I might see her as the Anti-Cameron. But then she said she was actually like Cameron in a lot of ways. She said they both probably had issues about their weight. She wasn't sure, but since Cameron was so small, Danielle thought she was either constantly watching her weight, bordering on anorexic, or, if she was small naturally that Cameron probably felt inadequate. She said most women in this society have at least some hang-ups about their bodies."

"Cameron did think she was too small on top. And your telling her constantly that she had no boobs didn't help."

"Ancient history. May I continue?"

"Again, it's not like I can stop you."

"She said she found an old picture when you were moving into the apartment. She said she was surprised to see that Cameron had dark hair."

"At first, I didn't understand why someone who was a natural blonde would dye their hair like that."

"Spoken like the true Aryan that you are – "

"Cameron told me she was young and thought she would be taken more seriously if she weren't the stereotypical 'ditzy blond.' "

"Which worked until she opened her mouth."

"She wasn't ditzy."

"No, just incredibly naïve and morally rigid. Which Danielle said she could identify with. She was a good Catholic girl once. That's sounds pretty hot, actually."

"Forget it. That just means she'd be really uptight about sex if she hadn't gotten over it."

"You mean she never wore a Catholic school uniform for you or anything?"

"That's only a fantasy for people who never went to Catholic school. For those of us who did, it's an occasion for flashbacks."

"Buzzkill. Where were we? Oh yeah, what Danielle was saying after you foolishly hung up. She said she hadn't married someone who was dying, but she had married someone knowing it probably wouldn't work, so that was almost as misguided."

"Okay. So, she refuted point by point everything you had assumed made her different from Cameron. How romantic," Chase sneered.

"Well, she did say something else . . . What was it? Let me think," House paused to increase the drama. And because it annoyed Chase just enough to make it worth the effort. "Oh yeah. She didn't believe you were with her only because she was the opposite of Cameron. She believed you genuinely loved her. I asked her why she thought that and she said you demonstrated it every day with your words and your actions. That you were the most thoughtful, loving person she'd ever known. I almost gagged hearing that one."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Oh, and she said that even if she were completely wrong, she was willing to take the chance that you could break her heart because she loved you that much."

Chase appeared to have no more witty comebacks. In fact, it looked to House like at least some of what he said might actually be sinking in.

"How do I know you're not making this whole thing up?" Chase finally asked, still displaying skepticism.

"Why would I do that?" House questioned in response.

"Weren't you the one who started this conversation saying that Danielle being at your house is a pain for you? Why wouldn't you make something up just to get us to talk and get her to leave? Not to mention that you have a reputation for being one of the great manipulators."

"How can you say that?"

"Tell me how you got in my room."

"Fair enough. Here's how we'll deal with this. You text Danielle and tell her to meet you here and ask her yourself."

"How do I know she'll tell me what she actually said?"

"You don't. But, if she tells you something completely different than what I did, you'll know one of us is lying. If she tells you the same thing, then it's probably what she actually said."

"And in the meantime, you'll contact her and tell her what to say."

"I'll stay until she gets here, and you can watch me to make sure I don't secretly call or text her."

"How do I know you didn't come up with this plan last night or earlier today?"

"Since you didn't say why you were going, neither of us had any idea why you left. How could we have cooked up some scheme where we agreed to convince you by finishing a conversation in a certain way when we had no idea that was the cause of the problem, or that you even heard it in the first place?"

"Well, then, I guess I can at least listen to what she has to say . . . "

"And the closed mind opens a tiny crack."

"I'm going to text her now."

Chase pulled out his cell and began typing. He sent it and waited. House knew Danielle had left for a meeting early that morning. He just hoped the meeting was over or they were on a break so it wouldn't be too long before she texted back.

Chase's phone buzzed in less than two minutes. He texted something back and then received a return text. He responded briefly and then put his phone away.

"Well?" House asked, trying his best not to sound anxious, or even worse, eager.

"She's finishing up at work and she'll be here in forty-five minutes."

House wished Danielle would be there sooner, since he had to wait around for her to get there and he really didn't want to talk to Chase any more than he already had. Oh well, what could he do?

"May I make a comment here?"

"It's not like I can stop you."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks."

"No, seriously. Who the hell breaks up a perfectly good relationship based upon part of a conversation overheard via an ass call?"

"I was upset. What I heard was upsetting."

"Not to someone with even a molecule of self-esteem."

"Thanks again."

"Seriously. You should talk to someone about that."

"Talk to whom about what?"

"To a shrink. About your lack of self esteem."

"Because psychiatric treatment has done such wonders for you."

"Actually, other than a year ago last spring, when I refused to see Nolan for a while, it has been pretty helpful."

"What happened then?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. But then no talking about my issues."

Awww, but it's _so_ much fun."

"Find something else to amuse yourself."

A several minute pause followed that.

"Can we turn on the TV?"

"No."

"But Judge Judy is on."

"I hate Judge Judy."

"Why?"

"She yells all the time."

"Just like your mom did when she was drunk?"

"I told you that unless you want to tell me all the details of your psychiatric appointments, we're not talking about me or my dysfunctional upbringing."

"Can we check the pay-per-view?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll want to look at porn, and, one, I can't afford it, and two, it's not exactly what I want Danielle to see me watching when she gets here."

"It's nice to know you still care."

"Shut up."

There was another period of silence.

"There was a water main break in the street in front of the hospital today."

"And they had to evacuate the patients, yeah, I heard when I called in sick."

"And Cuddy didn't make you come in and help?"

"I started to wretch in the middle of the phone call, so I think I convinced her I wouldn't be much use. Since you came here, I'm assuming you didn't go in, either."

"She didn't even call me."

"Even if you don't win that lawsuit, it was worthwhile."

"Uh-huh."

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Princeton Plainsboro is the only hospital I've ever worked at in The States. Do they all require their doctors to behave like orderlies when there's an evacuation?"

"No, that's just how Cuddy runs things."

"What's the point? I mean, I spent all that time, effort and money getting a medical degree and a specialty and she wants me to push gurneys and load patients into ambulances? Even your making me do the work of MRI techs is better than that."

"And there's a reason I make you do that stuff - because I think you're less likely to screw it up than someone else. I'm not sure one can screw up pushing a gurney, so I don't know the point of dragging us into it. I've worked there so long, I'd gotten used to being forced to do things that didn't make sense, until Ann pointed out the stupidity. I guess Cuddy's just a bad administrator."

"She hired you, so I think we can agree on that."

"Thanks."

Another pause.

"Any more news about wedding plans?"

"I'm not really involved in that. Are you still being a girl and worrying about what you're going to wear?'

"I'm not worried, but I'd just like to know. I don't want to show up on the day of the event to find everyone else is in a tux and I'm in board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt because you told me it was casual."

"But I bet you'd look darn cute like that. I'll have Ann call you."

Finally, the phone rang in the room.

"Yes, send her here. What? Um, okay."

Chase hung up the phone and gave House a sidelong glance.

"What?" House asked.

"The desk clerk said I should ask my _dad_ to be sure to stop and say goodbye before he left."

"Well, wasn't that sweet . . . "

"What the hell did you tell her?"

There was a knock on the door and House mentally sighed with relief. "Gotta go. Make nice and I hope we don't see either of you tonight, if you know what I mean."

House gave Chase and exaggerated wink. He hoisted himself up off the chair and went to the door quickly. He opened it to find Danielle standing on the other side.

"He's all yours," House stated as she entered and he left. He took the elevator down to the first floor and left via a side door, bypassing the clerk altogether, heading directly to his car. Hopefully, he was going to have Ann all to himself tonight.


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: Just to let you know, this is a Chase/Danielle-centric chapter. There is about a paragraph with House and Ann, with no significant plot points, so, if you aren't interested in Chase-Danielle, you can probably skip this chapter and wait for the next one.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

Chase closed the door behind House. He gestured to Danielle, who was still standing in the entrance, to join him in the sitting area.

Since this was an extended stay hotel, there was space for a small couch and two chairs. As she entered, Danielle hesitated. She thought about sitting on the couch, but if Chase didn't sit next to her, it would be devastating. She sat in one of the arm chairs and Chase lowered himself into the chair opposite hers.

He found himself looking at Danielle's face. She'd tried to use make-up to conceal the fact that she'd been crying, but she wasn't completely successful – it was still possible to see her face was a little puffy and her eyes were red.

Her expression was hard to read. She looked concerned, as would be expected, but she also looked at him with expectation, too. And there was something else. Tenderness, perhaps? Chase could only hope she'd forgive his foolishness.

Yes, Chase was starting to feel incredibly foolish. When he was talking to House, he'd had every intention to get Danielle to tell him the part of her conversation with House that he had missed, and see if their stories matched. He wasn't quite so hell-bent on doing that now.

Part of it was the passage of time. While he waiting for Danielle, Chase had had the opportunity to think about what House had told him. It slowly dawned on him that he had jumped to conclusions based on partial information.

On top of that, just looking at her, his resolve to be objective and ferret out the truth had almost completely crumbled. She sat there looking so open and vulnerable. And if what House had told him was true – and it was starting to seem to Chase more and more likely that it was - Danielle had said she'd risk his hurting her because she loved him that much. And here he was, running away like a coward at the first hint of potential trouble.

"Listen, I – "Chase began.

"Robert, please," Danielle interrupted. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I may be able to fix it, and even if I can't, I just need to know what I've done to mess up the best relationship I ever had. _Please_."

Guilt flooded Chase. He'd been the idiot, and had broken what they had together, and she was the one trying to repair it. He didn't deserve her. But, at least she deserved to know how he'd screwed things up.

"I heard part of your conversation with House yesterday."

"What?"

"When you were waiting for me at the hospital, my phone rang. I picked it up and heard you talking to House. I got really mad when you told him that you could see why he'd think that you were the Anti-Cameron, and I hung up. I got my stuff from my locker. I took a cab home and started packing. You know the rest."

"If you heard only that part of the conversation, I understand why you were upset."

"I thought that you thought I didn't love you. That I was only with you because I was on the rebound from Cameron."

"I know Greg said that, but you didn't hear the part where I disagreed with each point Greg made about how I'm not like her. I told him even though I'm big and she's small, we probably both have issues with our size. There aren't many women in this society that don't. I told him I'd seen that picture of you and Cameron and Doctor Foreman where she had dark hair. I told him that I used to be pretty judgmental back when I was a 'good Catholic girl.' And I told him that even though I didn't marry a guy who was dying, I did marry someone knowing it probably wouldn't work, which was also pretty misguided."

"I see." This was the final nail in the coffin of Chase's doubt - their stories matched.

"And then I told him that I knew you loved me. When he asked how, I said that you told me with your words. That the way you treated me every day showed me. And that there was no way for me to believe anything else when you touched me."

Well, House hadn't told him that last part, but that didn't mean Danielle hadn't said it. It seemed more likely that House couldn't bring himself to utter it. As Danielle reached what Chase knew by now was the end of the conversation, he was becoming overwhelmed. He knew what was coming next and he didn't know if he could speak without losing it. "Anything else?" he managed to croak out.

Danielle heard the emotion in Chase's voice. She was getting pretty emotional herself. She just needed to say one more thing, if she could.

"Yes." She paused, taking a breath to try to steady herself. "I said even if it turned out that you didn't love me, it was worth risking the pain – " a small sob escaped Danielle, "Because I love you _so_ much."

At this point, Danielle couldn't hold back her tears and they began slipping down her cheeks.

"I jumped to some . . . really stupid . . . conclusions . . . because of my own . . . insecurities . . . because no one has ever really . . . loved me . . . until _you_ did. I don't deserve - " Chase's eyes were becoming dangerously full.

"Don't you dare say that!" Danielle's voice was sharp, although tears were still sliding down her cheeks. "You deserved to be loved! You're smart and sexy and funny and brave and a good person . . . "

The room was silent now, except for the irregular breathing and small sobs coming out of both of them.

Danielle simply couldn't sit there any longer without touching Chase. She got up from her chair and moved toward him. He put up his hand to stop her.

"What?" Danielle asked with pain in her voice. She was assuming he was going to reject her again.

Chase quickly realized she had misinterpreted his gesture. "I'm not pushing you away, Dani. I'm disgusting. I smell like vomit, my hair is greasy and my breath is horrible."

Once she realized it wasn't a rejection, she relaxed.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it . . . " She had stopped crying and her mouth had turned up slightly, in contrast to her tear- and mascara- stained face.

"I'm going to brush my teeth and take a shower, okay?"

"Before you do, can you tell me if you've already paid for the room for the night?"

A tiny grin now formed on Chase's face. "Yes, I have. Why are you asking?"

"Well, I thought we could stay here tonight and, you know . . . "

"Have make-up sex until we pass out?"

"Yeah, that."

"Okay."

"I'm just going to borrow your room key and go to my car to get my suitcase."

"Why do you have a suitcase?"

"I stayed with Ann and Greg last night and I thought I'd be staying with them tonight, so I had some things with me, like a change of clothes for the morning."

What Danielle didn't say and Chase immediately figured out was that she was no more able to stay alone in their apartment than he would have been. It pained him that he had hurt her so much, but it also made him understand how much their relationship meant to her.

Chase handed her the room key card and headed toward the bathroom, trying to keep his emotions in check. Danielle quickly wiped her face and went to her car to get her bag. When she brought it back to the room, she heard Chase in the shower and got an idea.

With a thorough brushing of his teeth and tongue, Chase had been able to get the yucky post-drinking residue out of his mouth. He'd got into the shower and had rinsed enough to get rid of the vomit smell. He hadn't had a chance to soap up yet. Suddenly, he felt a breeze as the shower curtain was pushed aside.

Danielle climbed in, and Chase saw her standing in front of him. He'd spent all of last night and most of today trying to forget how much her body turned him on, despite the fact that society told him it shouldn't. _Screw society_, he thought as his lust overtook him and he moved towards her. He was surprised when Danielle gently eased the soap out of his hand.

"May I?" she asked.

"Okay," Chase responded with slight hesitation. It wasn't that he didn't want her to touch him. In fact, it was the opposite. He just thought that since he'd been the jerk in this situation, he shouldn't be the one getting rewarded by being touched. All that moralizing went out the window as she began to wash him.

Danielle began with his feet. Had it only been a day since they'd been apart? It seemed like an eternity. He'd been such an idiot to think he should give this up. And based on an assumption that couldn't have been more wrong. Chase felt his skin start to heat up as he felt deeply ashamed of himself.

"Is the water too hot?" Danielle asked with concern as she saw his skin turn pink.

"N-n-n-no," Chase stammered. "I . . . " he wanted to explain because he didn't want another misunderstanding, but the shame was overwhelming him at this point.

Danielle had finished his legs, skipped over his manhood and was washing his chest and back.

"Just relax, sweetie, okay?" Danielle encouraged him. Chase felt parts of himself starting to unwind a little due to her soapy caresses. Another part of him was getting less and less relaxed by the minute.

"Close your gorgeous eyes," Danielle commanded softly as she washed his face. When that was done, she reached for the shampoo and worked it through his hair. Chase's head fell forward until his forehead was resting on her shoulder.

"Umm," was as much as he could verbalize as her hands massaged his scalp. He could feel his headache fading away.

He moved away to rinse when she stopped, so his eyes stayed closed for a while. When he opened them, Danielle had already washed her body, face and hair, and was rinsing out the last of the shampoo. Chase looked at her. God, she was so beautiful.

"Hey, you forgot something," Chase pointed out as he waved his stiffening cock at her.

"Not so much forgetting as saving the best for last," Danielle replied.

She soaped up her hands and began to touch him. Chase almost exploded right then and there. He willed himself to hold back just a little longer. When Danielle was finished rinsing off the soap, Chase moved her quickly against the back wall of the shower. He moved her legs apart and his penis sought her entrance. He slid in and began pumping.

"Robert," Danielle moaned as he picked up the pace. He didn't like rushing things, but he wasn't sure how long the hot water would last. Chase was very close and he didn't want to leave her behind, so he reached down and touched her clit, using the tender strokes and the gentle pressure he knew she liked. She exploded around him and he came, harder than he ever had before, his entire body clenching and unclenching repeatedly. He stayed inside her and they held each other under the spray until the hot water was finally used up. They turned off the shower and got out. They toweled off and left the bathroom, heading toward the bed.

They collapsed and rested, snuggling against each other, enjoying the closeness.

After a while, Danielle reached for her bag and pulled out her cell.

"Are you calling a pizza delivery place?" Chase inquired. "I could use something on my stomach."

"I was just calling to let Annie know I won't be over tonight," Danielle informed him with a big smile. "Then, I'll call for pizza, okay?"

Chase smiled back and snuck a quick kiss before she dialed. He could wait. He had her back, and she still loved him. That was all that really mattered.

* * *

House went home and filled Ann in on everything that had happened, with color commentary, of course. When he said Chase was a moron for jumping to conclusions, Ann reminded him that they had been pretty good at that last November, and had reached the brink of disaster themselves as a result. Of course, House maintained the situations were completely different. Ann was too anxious to argue the point.

They were finishing up dinner when her cell rang.

"Hi, Dani," Ann answered apprehensively, not knowing what she was about to hear. "You're not? . . . okay . . . yes, I'm so happy for you, honey . . . enjoy!"

"I take it they've made up and are planning to keep everyone in the adjacent hotel rooms awake all night with the sounds of their humping."

"Something like that."

"Hey, the lots here are what, one-third of an acre?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Do you think we could be loud enough to wake the neighbors?"

"If we didn't have the windows closed and the A/C on, probably."

"A goal for the fall. In the meantime, we should get in lots of practice."

"Just let me put the dishes in the dishwasher first, okay, stud?"

* * *

Later that night, after the pizza and a couple more rounds of coupling, Chase and Danielle were lying together in the dark, holding each other.

"Everything feels really good right now," Danielle observed, "So, I probably shouldn't bring this up . . . "

"Then don't," Chase responded gently as he ran his fingers up and down Danielle's arm.

"It's just that I don't want this to happen again."

"Neither do I."

"So, I think it would help to try to figure out what was going on. One thing I know is I wasn't considering what I said very carefully, or how it might sound to you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Well, it's not like I didn't have a part in this. A major part."

"True."

"Okay, what do you want me to fix about myself?"

"It's not about that."

"Well, what is it about?"

"When I realized what happened, it frightened me. I mean, you don't have a lot of faith in me, do you?"

"I was stupid, and I'm sorry."

"Not stupid! Just . . . "

"Cripplingly insecure?"

"Well, I do think you have self-esteem issues."

"Great. Now I'm completely defective."

"Whoa! Take it easy. You're not defective. For one thing, I've never met a person who didn't have some self-esteem issues."

"But, mine are worse than most."

"Stop making comparisons. It's not a contest. Certainly not one I'd want to win, anyway. All I'm trying to say is that it's understandable, given your family history, that you might not feel completely secure all the time, that's all."

"Yeah, I'm a mess."

"No, you're not! I just don't want another misunderstanding between us. It might be helpful if you talked to someone about it, that's all."

"House said I should go to a shrink, too."

"I just want you to be happier, sweetie, and if it'll help . . . "

"House says it helped him, although from an employee's standpoint, it's hard to tell."

"If he's such a bad boss, why do you still work for him?"

"Well, I've learned a lot from him, he doesn't allow me do anything less than my best with the medicine, and he lets me get away with other things . . . "

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, I hit him and he didn't report me."

"What?"

"When Cameron left me, everyone was really sympathetic. Sympathetic to the point of smothering me. He let me hit him in front of everyone. They knew enough to back off then."

"There should have been an easier way."

"I guess. But I couldn't think of one at the time."

"And it's a good thing Annie wasn't in the picture then."

"You're telling me. She'd have killed me and not thought twice about it."

"I'm just amazed he let you do that."

"He sort of owed me."

"Huh?"

"Well, a few years back, he hit me."

"What?"

"There was this cop on a vendetta against House and he was pressuring everyone to rat out House's drug use. Cuddy decided it would be best for the hospital from a legal standpoint if she controlled how many pills he took, so she cut him way back. He started to detox and he became really strung out. That's when he hit me."

"You poor thing. It certainly doesn't look like you suffered any permanent damage, thank goodness."

"No, just a swollen, sore face for a while."

"It does seem like it was avoidable, though. I mean, Doctor Cuddy just unilaterally cut back his drug intake? Was he in some kind of program? Was he being monitored or anything?"

"Not that I know of."

"I'm not a doctor, but isn't that kind of dangerous medically?"

"I guess it is. It wasn't exactly great for my jaw, I know that. Anyway, he survived."

"And, thankfully, so did you. Then you returned the favor several years later."

"Yes."

"That's scary."

"Not really."

"I guess it must be a guy thing. I can't imagine a female boss and her female employee getting into a physical confrontation."

"You're right; they'd just verbally abuse each other and try to socially isolate each other."

"You make that sound like a bad thing . . . "

"It's terrible. It's better to clear the air with a fight than do all that emotional manipulation."

"Not to me. To me, fighting like that just so wrong."

"I guess women wouldn't do that, would they? I mean, mix it up and get down and dirty with each other . . . "

"Not unless some rich, incredibly stupid men were paying to watch it."

"So, you think I should see someone?"

"If you're perfectly content with your life and totally comfortable in your own skin, then you don't need to."

"That's a pretty high standard, don't you think? Wouldn't most of humanity need a shrink if they judged themselves against that?"

"I just know it helped me, that's all."

"You've been to a shrink?"

"I've had counseling."

"Why?"

"My mother died when I was fifteen. And then my Dad married this awful woman."

"How bad? Did she abuse you?"

"No. But she was a neat freak."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Except that she was constantly cleaning. She'd go in my room and re-arrange all my stuff to make it 'neater.' She even wanted to have my dog put to sleep so the house wouldn't be so messy."

"I can see where you wouldn't get along."

"I was dealing with the problems of being a teenager, a _fat_ teenager, my mother had died, and she wanted to take away my dog. I hated her. And then, just to get myself out of the situation, I married this guy I met. The fact that I didn't know him well enough to know that he was lazy and not-too-bright didn't help. He cheated and we were divorced by the time I was twenty-three."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I realized how lucky I was that I hadn't gotten pregnant. And I also knew I'd better figure out why I'd made such a huge mistake. So, I went and talked to someone."

"For how long?"

"I was in therapy about two years."

"That long?"

"Well, I'd been having problems for eight years."

"So, if the ratio is four years of problems to one year of therapy, I'll need to see someone, for, what, about eight years?"

"Not necessarily. You have some idea what's going on, I mean, what is making you feel insecure, so you probably don't have to do too much work there. The learning how to accept it and not let it hurt you anymore part could take a while . . . "

"I guess."

There was a pause.

"You said that you went to get counseling because you realized that marrying your first husband was a mistake."

"Yes, that was part of it."

"And now you're telling me I should go to see a shrink. Do you think our being together is a mistake?"

"Absolutely not! I just think our relationship would work better if you felt like you could trust me more."

"I do trust you."

"Not enough to believe that I really love you."

"You know that's hard for me. My mother loved the bottle more than she loved me. My dad loved his career or his new wife or anything else more than he loved me. Cameron loved being morally righteous more than she loved me."

"Your mother was an addict, your father was a heartless prick, and I don't know what your ex-wife's problems were, but that doesn't have anything to do with how loveable _you_ are."

"Well, then, why can't anybody love me?"

"It's not that they can't, it's that they won't, which is completely beyond my comprehension, because I love you with all my heart. It feels pretty easy to me."

"Unless I'm hearing parts of conversations and getting mad and running away."

"Yeah, if you could just stop doing that, everything would be perfect."

Danielle could feel Chase's smile in the dark.

"Listen, I'm not promising anything, but I'll consider it, okay?"

"That would be great, sweetie. Oh, and if you think it will help our relationship, I'd be happy to go to couples counseling with you, too."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you. For _us_."

Chase pulled Danielle in for a long, deeply passionate kiss. They enjoyed each other one last time before falling asleep.


	49. Chapter 49

A/N: Once again, my computer has decided to give me problems (third time since the summer, arrgghh!), so it may be a while before you see the next update after this one. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc, Except OCs

As July wound down, it was starting to become obvious that Ann was pregnant. There was no longer any way for her to hide it under a sweater or a blazer, not that she was inclined to wear either in the near-one hundred degree heat.

Thankfully, their air conditioning continued to function, so they were able to continue sleeping next to each other at night. Actually, with House's insomnia and Ann's increasing inability to get in a comfortable position, they weren't sleeping together as much as occupying the same bed with their bodies adjacent to each other. Not that either was complaining. They'd both spent years of nights sleeping alone. Not sleeping while being together was infinitely preferable.

One midweek night they were in bed. House was on his back and Ann was lying on her left side, facing him, with her body touching his. They were getting ready to turn the lights out so they both could attempt to go to sleep. Suddenly, House felt a slight movement against his side.

"I'm not going to get to sleep if you don't stay still," House groused at Ann.

"That wasn't me," Ann responded. House looked over to see Ann practically beaming. His immediate reaction was to put his hand on her abdomen. That was when he felt the flutter. Holy shit.

When he first figured out that Ann was pregnant, he had taken a solemn vow that he wouldn't be one of those idiot fathers who got all excited and happy and stupid about feeling his child move in its mother's uterus. He wouldn't allow it. But, he was definitely experiencing something. Some emotion. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but it wasn't bad, at least. Anticipation, perhaps? He didn't dare let his own speculation go much beyond that.

"Greg?" Ann asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," House responded distantly. The fluttering had stopped for the moment, and House was torn between letting the whole thing go and feeling around Ann's abdomen to see if he could find the movement again. He decided it would look too eager to start checking so he moved his hand away.

About a minute later, he felt the flutter in his side again. He found he couldn't keep himself from being pleased. Not because of the movement. That wasn't it at all. No, it was the hide-and-seek aspect of this that was amusing him so much. The thing was still a fetus, but it already seemed to have his personality of playing games and otherwise being a pain in the ass.

House stopped himself almost immediately after he had the thought. Here he was attributing a personality to something with cognitive processes that weren't developed much beyond what a brain stem was capable of, if that. He couldn't allow himself to think this way. It wasn't rational.

Although House thought he had kept his emotions pretty well hidden, that wasn't the case. Something in the way he had reacted had tipped Ann off.

"Hey, Mr. Objective Scientist, it's okay to be excited and happy about this, you know," Ann gently teased him.

"I'm sure you're excited and happy enough for both of us."

"Yeah, I am."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's not some sense of religious awe about the creative powers of The Flying Spaghetti Monster or anything, as you know. It's, um, hands."

"What?"

"Hands. I've decided I really want the baby to have your hands."

"They'd be a little big on an infant, wouldn't they?"

"Hilarious. I meant in proportion."

"That's a little less scary, I guess. But why my hands, especially?"

"You have the most amazing hands."

"I know you like it when I use them to pleasure you."

"And when you play the piano, or the guitar, or when you cook some gourmet dish, or juggle, or the myriad other talented things you do with them. But that's not what I'm talking about. It's not what your hands do, it's how they look."

"How they look? They're just appendages on the ends of my arms."

"No they're not. They're strong and beautifully muscled with long, elegant fingers, and yet, at the same time, when I look at them, I see a little boy's soft, chubby, cute little hands."

"My hands are _not_ soft or chubby. And I won't even dignify the 'cute' comment with a response."

"I'm not saying they are. I'm saying that somehow, I don't know how, but they _look_ that way to me sometimes."

"Well, I know you don't drink, so it can't be that. Are you sneaking weed and hallucinating?"

"Greg . . . "

"Or, assuming you don't want to harm the fetus, is this was some form of hormone-induced psychosis?"

"First, I felt this way before I was pregnant. Second, it's not that big a deal that your fiancée loves your hands, is it?"

"As long as it's based somewhat on reality, no it isn't. But loving my hands because they look both strong and soft, or long and chubby at the same time is a little strange, you must admit."

"I wish I could it explain it better, but I can't. I just adore your hands. And the rest of you."

Ann took his hand and began to slide her flattened palm slowly against his, pressing the heel of her hand sensuously up the entire length of his hand, all the way to the tips of his fingers. House couldn't believe it, but her touching him with just a small non-erogenous part of her body was seriously turning him on. He could tell by the way his whole body was tingling, and by the quickening pace of his breathing.

Ann heard it, too. She leaned down and began kissing the back of his hand, starting near the wrist and working her way up to his knuckles and then kissing along each finger. After she finished with his thumb, she rubbed her cheek against his hand, still moving her palm against his.

House had gone from fast breathing to panting. And his dick was getting hard. He was astonished how easily this woman aroused him. Before he'd met her, he hadn't really had a problem getting excited, but he was never this easy a mark, either. And what was even more amazing was that it didn't bother him or make him feel vulnerable. He felt comfortable responding to her so quickly and completely.

Ann clasped the hand she'd been kissing and was now giving his other hand the same treatment with her other palm. While she was kissing the back of his other hand, House looked at the one that Ann continued to grasp.

Although he liked to think of his hands as tough, they really weren't. He had some calluses – on the tips of the fingers of his left hand from playing the guitar, and some in the palm of his right from using his cane, but, other than that, not much about his hands was rough. It wasn't like he did physical labor for a living, so it was understandable. It was difficult to get weather-beaten hands working in an office, writing on a white board and tossing an oversized tennis ball.

Okay, so Ann was right that his hands could be seen as soft in some ways. But chubby like a little boy? Where was she getting that? His fingers had always been longer than average. It had been tremendously useful when he was playing the piano – he had been able to easily stretch his fingers at least a tenth since he was a teenager.

Well, technically, that was his fingers, not his hand. When he looked closely at it, curved around Ann's hand, it did look sort of, well, rounded, he guessed. And the hair on it had a sort of a reddish, light-brown tinge to it, making it appear much more youthful, than, say, the salt-and-pepper hair on his chest. So, at this moment, his hands did appear to be, well, young-ish and not skinny, he supposed.

And, why did this make any difference, anyway? The woman he loved was making his dick hard by caressing his hands, and he was obsessing about how his hands looked. He wanted to ignore his thoughts and go with his urges, but he couldn't.

It took only a second before it hit House in one of his patented flashes of inspiration. He didn't want his hands to look like a small child's because, thanks to John, it made him feel weak and vulnerable. He could even remember his father mocking House's "soft, girly" hands when he got past the age of eight or so. Dammit, was that man's influence over him ever going to be over?

Ann noticed the flash of anger cross House's face.

"Am I doing something you don't like?" she asked gently.

"No, Annie," House closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was Ann to think he was somehow mad at her. "Just thinking about . . . what John had to say about my hands."

"I'll bet it wasn't complimentary," Ann said as she stopped her activities. House saw an angry expression on her face. "Did he ever have anything positive to say about any aspect of you or your life?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Asshole."

"And here you are, stuck dealing with the fallout."

"I'm not stuck with anything. It just pisses me off that a parent can't love such a talented, intelligent, beautiful child. Not only that, but to be actively undermining you – it just boggles my mind."

"Remember, I wasn't his kid, at least not biologically."

"Yes, but how many adoptive parents adore kids that aren't biologically theirs?"

"True. But I wasn't chosen via adoption. I was the bastard child of his wife's affair."

"Which still doesn't justify what he did. If he was mad at your mother, he should have directed his anger toward her, not you. And, if he couldn't handle it, he should have walked away."

"Marines don't give up."

"You know, that's a dumb idea, even in a war. We won the Revolutionary War because Washington knew the value of a "strategic retreat." And in one's personal life, that's beyond stupid."

"I know. I'm just saying that's probably why he stuck around. His insane personal moral code."

"Too bad that code didn't include some compassion, or at least knowing the appropriate target of his anger."

"I'm not sure that would have been a good thing if he had directed his anger elsewhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if he was pissed at my mom for having an affair, with me, the bastard, as an on-going reminder, it would have been worse if he decided to beat her instead."

"It certainly wouldn't have been good, but how would it have been worse?"

"I don't know. It was just better that he came after me."

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"Your rebellious, outrageous behavior - "

"Yeah?"

"You did it to direct his attention away from her. You created a distraction to draw his fire. You were protecting her."

"Not me. My picture is in the dictionary when you look up 'selfish bastard.' "

"This is me, Greg. You can't bullshit me."

"What do you mean?"

"Selfish? When the hell are you selfish?"

"All the time – "

"Like when you get a case and you can't let go of it until the patient is cured, even though it means you'll be sleeping in your chair at work and your leg will be killing you?"

"That's about the puzzle, not the patient."

"How about your giving up a great love - twice – the first time because you couldn't stand the idea that you were somehow disappointing her because you were less than the man she first met, and the second time because you thought you might hurt her again."

"The first time was because I resented what she did to my leg without my consent, and the second time was because _I_ didn't want to get hurt again."

"Okay, what about agreeing to risk your life for a person you didn't even like, just because your best friend asked you to?"

House fell silent for a moment. He was out of arguments. He really couldn't come up with a selfish rationale for why he had gone through the DBS; he had done it solely because it was what Wilson wanted.

"Okay, so I can be a sap. Point made."

"You're not a sap. You're a person who would do anything for the people he loves, including endangering himself. You're a generous, loving human being."

"No one has ever said that to me before you."

"People are idiots."

House smiled slightly.

"Seriously. They hear your sarcastic and politically incorrect comments and see the things you do to aggravate them and they think you're an insensitive jerk. They don't step back and see how, when it really matters, you would sacrifice yourself for someone you love."

House usually took great pride in his perversity. The vast majority of people were selfish but wanted to look generous. House was the opposite – it was safer to push people away by making them think he was a prick, when, in fact, he was willing to help someone when they needed it. Granted, sometimes his help was unconventional, or even unwanted, but, many times, he did know better what people needed than they did.

Ann had figured out something that House had always felt more comfortable keeping hidden. Except that her knowing it didn't bother him. Having someone appreciate what you did wasn't a bad thing, House reasoned. Especially when it was someone he loved and trusted. Some that he knew wouldn't use it against him. As long as he could deflect, that is.

"Hey, what you were doing with my hands was pretty hot. Wanna continue?"

"It's not like either of us is going to get to sleep soon, so why not?"

After more hand massage, and a little something-something, they finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The first week of August found Ann busy with final wedding preparations, and waiting with anticipation for her ultrasound, which was scheduled for the end of the week.

House waited for her in the lobby. He knew she was perfectly capable of getting to her OB/GYN's office by herself, but he also knew she had to walk by Cuddy's office. He was pretty sure Cuddy wouldn't do anything since the lawsuit still wasn't settled yet, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Since Ann hadn't had any problems thus far, it had been a month since her last check-up. She hadn't really looked pregnant the last time she was there. At this point, there was no hiding it. House's first thought as he waited by the front desk was how hot she looked, moving her rounded body across the lobby to meet him.

He wasn't prepared for the chorus of squeals that greeted her as the nurses on duty saw her. They practically swarmed around her, hugging her and patting her belly. House thought the volume and pitch of their exclamations would make him deaf, for sure. He was about ready to snarl and scare everyone off when Ann gave him a "please behave" expression. He looked away and tried to blot out the noise.

He happened to glance in Cuddy's office. He had assumed she'd be in a meeting and that the office would be empty. He was surprised to find her sitting at her desk. She had looked up from her voluminous paperwork and was assessing the situation unfolding in the hospital's lobby.

House was aware that his vision was changing as he got older, but he was never more unhappy than he was that day to be far-sighted. He got a good look at the expression on Cuddy's face; it was twisted in disgust and anger. It was one of the ugliest things he'd seen in a long time, and it scared him a little.

Honestly, he shouldn't care at this point why Cuddy was so obviously pissed off, but his mind couldn't help but try to diagnose the situation. As an administrator, Cuddy might be upset that the noise level could be bothersome to the clinic patients, although worse things had certainly happened in that space.

The nurses also weren't behaving in an exactly professional way, either, but, again, Cuddy never seemed to be too concerned about her employees' unprofessional conduct, if what House had been able to get away with over the years was any guide, let alone Cuddy's own behavior in the past couple of years.

So, what the nurses were doing probably wasn't the real reason, or at least the most important one. House looked at Cuddy again. She seemed to be almost seething with anger. House traced her line of sight and it was on Ann. In fact, it was even more focused than that. She was looking directly at Ann's belly.

A chill went up House's spine. He ended the meet-and-greet and hustled Ann, as gently as he could, given both his leg and her delicate condition, towards the elevators. Luckily, one appeared almost immediately after he punched the button. It was empty and they got in as quickly as possible.

House knew Cuddy was pissed at him for the lawsuit. There was no way she wouldn't be. The discovery phase had revealed all kinds of behavior on Cuddy's part that House knew Cuddy didn't want the Board to know about. So, even if House lost, Cuddy's reputation was already permanently damaged. If he won, that would make things even worse.

But, Cuddy being pissed at House for the lawsuit didn't really explain Cuddy's behavior. She would have been looking at him with hatred, not Ann. House continued his differential. Cuddy had wanted to have a baby for a long time. She'd tried and failed a couple of times. Rachel had come into her life, and House thought that had taken care of whatever need Cuddy had to be a mother.

But what if that wasn't the case? Had she and Lucas been trying to have a child? Had Cuddy miscarried again? Since House no longer kept track of her cycles, he had no idea, but all of that was definitely possible. She certainly wouldn't have shared that information with him. House wasn't sure she would have told Wilson, and even if she had, Wilson wouldn't have said anything to House. They barely spoke anymore about anything but patients.

So, the shock of seeing Ann pregnant, along with Cuddy's own sense of frustration at not being able to have a child herself would certainly explain the extreme reaction she had. Unfortunately, knowing why Cuddy was upset didn't make House feel any better. That look of pure hatred was chilling. Should Ann not come to this hospital for her check-ups? Should she have the baby in another hospital? House knew Ann would never agree to that. Ann would refuse to change what she was doing because of what Cuddy might do.

But, Cuddy wouldn't _actually_ do anything, would she? House's mind immediately went to the tripwire. He'd never thought she'd be capable of doing that before it happened. And if she were upset enough, Lucas would find out. And if Lucas decided he needed to do something . . . well, if House ever wanted to sleep again, he just couldn't contemplate that.

"You're awfully quiet," Ann observed, pulling House out of his dark thoughts.

"Just thinking about the ultrasound, that's all," House deflected.

"Are you ready to find out the sex of the baby?"

"Yes," House answered quickly and almost absentmindedly. _That poor kid. Having a cripple for a father who can't protect him _House thought.

"Greg, are you okay?"

"I didn't think I'd be this nervous, that's all."

"Oh." It did strike Ann as strange that House would be this distracted. He was the one who was telling her it was no big deal. And he did seem nervous, but not in a positive way, not with expectation or anticipation.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ann asked a second time.

"Yeah, I'm fine." House answered tersely.

There really wasn't any time to discuss it, since they'd reached the waiting room for the ultrasound. They usually didn't make the women wait too long, since their bladders had to be full for the test.

They were shown into an exam room. House helped Ann get on the table and get her pants undone. He was slipping the sheet over her as the doctor came in.

The OB/GYN made a quick visual appraisal. "Well, you look about the right size. Have you decided if you want to do an amnio today?"

"Yes," Ann answered. They had no intention of terminating the pregnancy if the child had Down's, but they wanted to be prepared.

The doctor turned to the nurse and said something, most likely asking her to get the needle and other supplies needed for the test.

"Okay, while we're waiting for that, why don't we take a look?" the doctor said to no one in particular. He pushed Ann's sheet down and squirted the gel on her belly.

He began pressing the wand against her abdomen as he turned the screen to face them.

Ann really couldn't make out much; it looked gray and grainy to her. She looked at House, who was following the "action" on the screen intently.

It was silent in the room, except for the doctor rolling the ball, clicking out measurements and taking images.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time to Ann, the doctor said, "Well, everything looks pretty normal. You want to know the sex of the baby, right?"

"Yes," Ann answered.

The doctor moved the wand again. "Well, there it is. Doctor House, would you like to tell your fiancée?"

"It's a boy, Annie," House almost whispered.

Ann's hands reached up to House's face and she turned his head towards her. "I love you, Greg," she whispered back.

It was such a cliché, but their lips found each other and they kissed deeply for several moments.

The next sound they heard was the doctor clearing his throat. Apparently, the nurse had returned with the amnio supplies. The nurse held the wand while the doctor used the needle. House held Ann's hand.

After the doctor extracted the fluid, he indicated Ann could use the ensuite bathroom. House helped Ann down from the table and she went to do her business.

The doctor and nurse left the exam room.

"How do you feel?" House asked when she had returned.

"I suppose you would groan if I said 'drained.' " Ann noted, looking at the picture of the baby the doctor had left for her.

"Are you okay?"

"Where that honking big needle went in, it's a little sore, but otherwise, I'm fine."

"Let's go home then."

House decided it would be a good idea if they left the hospital by the back door. It was a little extra walking for him, but he didn't want to take the chance of pissing off Cuddy even more. Besides, it was hot outside, and his leg really wasn't as bad with the pain meds.

When they got home, Ann made her calls to Danielle, Tom and Bob, and House called his mom, who found it necessary to comment that if their son were anything like his father, "they'd have their hands full." House rolled his eyes and Ann smiled, albeit with a tinge of sadness.

They were lying in bed that night, with the baby doing what they now knew was _his_ nighttime routine of moving around, stopping, then moving again.

"Well, it's time to start thinking about names, I guess," Ann stated.

"I have no idea what its, um, his name should be." House said. "Nothing weird. And nothing to make it likely that he'll get beaten up. Otherwise, I don't have any preferences."

Ann had a fleeting thought of House always being the new kid, and getting picked on because of it. She leaned in and cupped his cheek, kissing him softly on the lips.

"What was that for?" House asked.

"Nothing," Ann replied, knowing House would hate to think she was feeling sorry for him. "I just like kissing you."

"O-_kay_," House responded.

"So, no suggestions?"

"What are they naming the cool kids these days?"

"I don't know. Besides, I don't think I want him to have a trendy name, anyway. Think of all those women reaching their sixties and seventies who people are calling 'Barbie.' "

House winced. "Point made."

"We could name him after someone. What about the name 'Gregory'?"

"Over my dead body. There is no way the world needs another Gregory House."

"I bet all those people whose cases you couldn't take that didn't get cured would disagree."

"Whatever. Besides, I think it's confusing when a father and son have the same name. And all that 'junior' stuff is just demeaning."

"True. How about naming him after my dad?"

"As long as we don't name him after his other grandfather, I'm okay with that."

"No way we'd name him after that prick. So, his first name will be David. What about a middle name?"

"Geez, we just came up with he first name, can't we rest and think about it for a while?"

"This from a man who'll spend an entire week without sleep thinking about a case. This is hardly _that_ difficult."

"He'll have to live with it the rest of his life; we don't want to screw it up."

"Unless he legally changes it. Besides, how much of a tragedy is it if he doesn't like his middle name?"

"True. Any ideas?"

"Do you mind naming him after someone else I love?"

"Thomas?"

"That's one possibility. The other is Robert."

"Do you think Bob would like that?"

"I think he would, but he wouldn't admit it."

"Why not Thomas?"

"Well, Tom will be thrilled to have him named after his best friend. And Tom has a son, and Bob doesn't have any kids."

"Makes sense."

"Besides, it also honors someone you love, too."

"Who?"

"Robert."

"You mean _Chase_?

"Yes."

"I don't love Chase. Why the hell would you think I do?"

"Baby, this is me. You don't have to pretend you don't care about someone in front of me."

"But, I don't."

"_Greg_ . . . "

"Oh, all right. I may feel something for the idiot."

"So, do you want Robert for the baby's middle name?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"David Robert House. I like it."

"And the initials don't make a stupid word or a dumb acronym. Yep, it'll work."

They thought about a little celebratory sex, but Ann was still sore from the test. And House was still distracted thinking about what Cuddy or Lucas might do. So, they both eventually fell into a light, fitful sleep.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: I have my computer functioning again, yeah! Sorry for the delay.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

Ann spent the weekend packing for their wedding and honeymoon. She expected that she would have to pack for House and, mostly, she did. She was curious about something.

"Greg," she spoke to him Monday after they had finished dinner. They had cleaned up and were sitting at the kitchen table. "May I ask you something?"

"I know, I know," House muttered. "I need to pack. I'll get to it."

"Actually, I've kind of started for you."

"Really? That's excellent. And if you want to finish, go right ahead. Oh, and thanks."

"I am having a bit of a problem, though."

"What? Fold clothes, put in suitcase. Doesn't seem like to much of a challenge for an intelligent woman like you."

"Actually, if you roll things up, you can fit more stuff and it gets less wrinkled."

"Okay. Good to know . . . "

"Yeah. Anyway, even though we're traveling north, it can still get pretty warm -"

"I thought you said there was air conditioning."

"There is, but we'll still be outside, possibly walking around – "

"Don't walk too much. Bum leg."

"I know that." Ann was starting to sound exasperated. "What I'm trying to ask is why don't you have any shorts?"

"What?"

"They're like pants, only they don't cover the lower half of your legs. Designed to keep you cooler on hot days, you know, shorts."

"I _know_ what shorts are."

"So, why don't you have any?"

"I just said you were an intelligent woman, Annie. Don't prove me wrong."

"Just answer the question."

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Not to me."

"My leg – the way it looks -"

"Your legs are gorgeous. Long, beautifully muscled – "

"And scarred. One of my legs has a huge, repulsive scar on it, or did you forget that?"

"No, I didn't forget your scar. It's just not that big a deal to me, I guess."

"Not that big a deal? Without that scar you'd be marrying someone who didn't need to take drugs just to function, who could be a real father to your child because he would be able to play sports with him, and who was a whole person instead of someone who was defective."

House didn't know where all of this was coming from. The last couple of weeks had been very emotional for him – feeling the baby move and seeing it – _him_ - on the ultrasound, and now it was less than a week before the wedding. _His_ wedding.

He was terrified. A part of him wanted this so badly it hurt, and another part of him knew happiness didn't last and that this had to end somehow, most likely with his screwing it up. Like he was doing now.

"Stop!" Ann almost shouted. "Don't you dare say those awful things about yourself!"

"They happen to be true – "

"No, they're not. You are _not_ defective. You have a scar, that's all. It's some puckered-looking skin, not a character flaw."

"No, it's not. It's a huge hole in my leg. It's hideous. And your refusing to deal with it or acknowledge what it really is won't work. You shouldn't deny what a mess I am - "

"You're not a mess! You've had an injury, a serious injury, but nothing more than that. And you're not perfect. News Flash – neither is anyone else."

"Yeah, but I'm a lot less perfect than most people – "

"This isn't a fucking contest! Let's see how bad you can be compared to someone else. Who wants to win that? And, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if, for some bizarre reason, you do want to win, sorry, you aren't even in the competition."

"Yes, I am. I'm a barely walking, dysfunctional bastard."

"Dysfunctional? You want dysfunctional? How about getting together with a couple of friends and going out to find someone to rape in the ass? Sound like a fun evening to you? Well, it did to them."

"Wow, so I'm marginally better than a bunch of vicious rapists. Gee, I'm such a mensch!"

"Why are you doing this?"

House looked away. Well, she had the right to know, he supposed. "I'm weak and a screw-up and afraid that I'm going to mess this up."

"Oh, baby . . . " Ann said softly as she got up from her place and came over to him. She enfolded House in her arms, and pulled his head against her chest. "Don't do this. It's okay to want to be happy. It's okay to stay in a place where you are loved."

House put his arms around her and pulled her even closer. His head was buried in her chest. "Have I told you lately how big and gorgeous your tits are?"

Ann laughed and it released some tension. "Thank you. Oh, and if you're trying to convince me you're unlovable, it's about a year too late, okay?"

House looked up at her, resting his chin in the valley of her breasts. "I want this so much," he admitted softly, both to her and to himself. "Please don't let me botch this up."

"You're talking to Ms. Control Freak, remember? I'm not about to let anything ruin this, even my own anxieties."

"You're anxious?"

"Of course I am."

"Having second thoughts?"

"No, not at all."

"What are you anxious about then?"

"What always makes me anxious – the stuff I can't control. If it pours the on the wedding day. If we hit so much traffic on Sunday that we're late and we lose our reservation. And, because it's track season, there's no room availability, so we wind up sleeping in the car."

"And because it's our honeymoon, we have sex in said car. Just like my first time. How romantic!"

"More like cramped and sweaty."

"So, you're just worried about minutiae, then?"

"I think some of the things are a little important."

"Mere trivialities. Aren't you worried about the big stuff?"

"Like what?"

"Like, can this work?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure? You're the one who's been divorced."

"That's why. Even before Kevin and I were married, I had my doubts. I remember what that felt like. And I don't feel that way now."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I'm going to through a little ritual so the State of New Jersey will know that this man, Gregory House, can have the rights, including but not limited to, inheriting my assets upon my death – "

"I'm a hell of a lot more interested in your live assets," House proclaimed as he reached around and grabbed her behind.

Ann giggled. "That you are empowered to make decisions for me should I become incapacitated – "

"From my _lurve_?"

Ann rolled her eyes and continued, "And that you are the father of my child without your having to formally adopt him."

"That's it?"

"Well, that and whatever other legal implications there are to our getting married."

"Just the legal stuff? Nothing about love?" House tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out almost tentatively.

"The wedding ceremony is just a legal exercise and the reception is an opportunity to have a party, and the honeymoon is just an excuse to have a sex-laden vacation. The love is there whether we do any of that or not."

House lifted his chin off of Ann's chest. He moved so that his lips were almost touching hers.

"I love you, Annie."

"I love you, too, Greg."

Their lips connected softly at first, then more passionately as the kiss deepened. After they paused, House stood up and led Ann to the bedroom. Their lovemaking was slow and tender as House kissed and caressed Ann everywhere and Ann did the same to House. It was so filled with emotion that they both cried when it was over.

After they recovered a bit, House insisted it was just the aftermath of the physical release, which had been tremendous. Ann didn't argue; she simply kissed away the tears on his face. They both slept soundly for the first time in a long while.

* * *

The rehearsal was Friday night, so they left for the inn on Friday morning. Chase and Danielle arrived in mid-afternoon, after having picked up House's mother at the airport.

Although they had spoken on the phone a few times, Ann and Blythe had never met each other. And the phone conversations had been strained.

Ann knew she really shouldn't be judging Blythe; she knew nothing of the woman's circumstances. But, she couldn't help but feel anger at Blythe not doing something to prevent the abuse she must have known was going on in her own household. Okay, so it was the 1960s and there weren't places like battered women's shelters. And, many times, they were probably far away from home, in another country, most likely trapped on a military base, in the days before the armed services were able or willing to deal with what happened to their soldiers' families. Still, there must have been something Blythe could have done to prevent what happened to House.

Ann knew that House wouldn't want her to confront his mother. If nothing else, it would reveal what happened to him during his childhood. Ann remembered that House had sworn everyone in his hospital room to secrecy when they found out about the ice baths. There was no way House wanted anyone else to know any more details. In any case, it was over long ago and there was no point in resurrecting it, unless it was House talking about it during his therapy sessions. Blythe certainly couldn't change anything now.

So, Ann decided to just suck it up and be as polite as she possibly could. She knew there would always be an emotional divide between herself and her mother-in-law, and she was never going to be close to her. It was just the way it had to be.

For her part, Blythe was uncomfortable. She was surprised Greg was getting married after having been a bachelor for so long. And she was happy about finally becoming a grandmother, although they lived far enough apart that she most likely wouldn't get the chance to bond with her grandchild.

But, since Blythe was very traditional, she wasn't sure she approved of the circumstances of her grandchild's birth. And, this child conceived out of wedlock also served as a reminder of her own immoral behavior and the child that resulted from it. She was going to this wedding because she thought she should, not because she was particularly happy about the situation. So, she plastered a small, tight smile on her face and hoped to just get through it.

Ann's family and House's team and their significant others made it by late afternoon.

The rehearsal took place quickly while everyone was settling in. At six, everyone went to dinner at a restaurant two blocks away from the inn on the opposite side from the bed and breakfast where the overflow guests were staying.

The dinner went well, for the most part. Since there were fifteen people, they were able to sit at the same table. There was a lot of back and forth between House and his team, and Ann and her family, and even the team and Ann's family. Other than Blythe, who really didn't know anyone except House, and who was obviously anxious, everyone seemed to be mixing it up pretty well.

When they returned from dinner, Foreman and Martha, Hadley and Amanda, and Taub and Rachel continued on to their bed and breakfast. Tom and Sharon and Bob and Deidre went up to their rooms. The wedding party went to find Hale. He had said there were a few last minute items to discuss.

When Ann had booked the inn, she tried to make sure all the rooms were filled. But, since everyone on House's team except Chase had decided to stay elsewhere, that wasn't possible. Ann had apologized to Hale, who reassured her that he would have no trouble booking a room in the middle of high tourist season.

Ann felt better when they approached the check-in desk, and saw there was a couple checking in to the room they hadn't booked. However, she was surprised by House's reactions.

"Cameron!" House bellowed loudly enough to be heard down the street. He limped quickly over to the desk, "How's it hanging?"

The blond woman turned around quickly, "H-h-house?" she stammered.

"In the flesh," he proclaimed with exaggerated pride. "This is my fiancée, Ann Mueller. We're getting married here tomorrow."

"It's nice to meet you," Ann jumped in when Cameron paused. "I've heard so much about you."

House could tell Ann was using her arms-length, polite voice that she used for difficult clients. Obviously, between House and Chase, Ann hadn't heard a lot that was positive about Cameron. _Oh boy, this is going to be fun_, House thought, mentally rubbing his hands together with glee.

"N-n-nice to meet you," Cameron continued to stutter, most likely from the shock. She did have the presence of mind to check Ann out, and she couldn't help but notice her condition.

"Yep," House interjected, as he patted her belly, "I got her knocked up last spring. Considering I was sick in the hospital at the time, damn impressive, wouldn't you say?"

Ann decided not to challenge House on his blurring of the timeline.

Cameron was about to ask why House was in the hospital, when the man she was with muscled into the conversation, "How do you know Alison?" he asked in an irritated voice.

"I used to work for him, Travis," Cameron replied.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" House asked, sounding almost convincing that he was upset at the breach of manners.

"Sure," Cameron answered. Like she had any choice. "This is Doctor Travis Bicknell. This is my former boss, Doctor Gregory House."

"You used to work for Gregory House?" Travis asked. "Wow . . . "

"Thank you," House responded with mock pride. "Cameron left the nest and now she's off doing . . . what, exactly?"

"I work for the CDC in Atlanta," Cameron stated. "I direct projects on diseases with an immunological component."

"That actually doesn't sound totally boring," House conceded.

"It's where we met." Travis interjected, attempting to get the focus back to him now that he knew he was in a room with someone world renowned. "I'm Assistant Director of Epidemiology. I'm responsible for gathering and analyzing all the statistics that come in."

House almost told the man to his face that he had the most mind-numbing job in medicine, but restrained himself, mostly for Ann's sake. In any case, someone else spoke up.

"Hi, Cameron," Chase said a little shyly as he moved from behind House and Ann.

"Ch-Chase," Cameron started to stammer again. "W-Why are you here?"

"He's my best man," House proclaimed. His voice was a mixture of mocking and pride.

"What? Where's Wilson?" Cameron asked, dumbfounded.

"This is what happens when you don't watch your soaps faithfully," House admonished her. "Wilson and I had an estrangement a little over a year ago."

"That's too bad," Cameron said distractedly, still processing what House had told her.

"And your ex has been brave enough to step into the BFF void," House noted.

"Your ex?" Travis asked, obviously upset. "I thought you said your husband died."

"That was hubby number one," House corrected him. "This is hubby number two."

"I'm really confused, here, Alison," Travis complained.

There was an awkward pause. Suddenly, Chase jumped in.

"This is my fiancée, Danielle Gray," Chase said, using his hand on her back to push her slightly into the group towards Cameron.

House, Ann and Danielle all did their very best to hide their surprise, although Ann knew Danielle well enough to sense that she was taken aback. So, Ann suspected Chase hadn't actually asked Danielle yet.

"It's nice to meet you," Cameron said, or more like parroted. She never did have a poker face, and her look of astonishment was plainly visible.

She was already reeling to see House and Chase, let alone that House was getting married and expecting a child. And Wilson was no longer his BFF. And Chase was engaged. To _this_ woman?

Cameron had always prided herself on having an open mind when it came to people. After all, she was the one who insisted they treat that morbidly obese man who wound up having lung cancer. But, Chase was with a fat girl? This was just unbelievable.

"Nice to meet you, too," Danielle said.

Cameron looked past Danielle to Chase. "You're going to marry _her_?"

"Yes," Chase insisted, obviously digging in.

"Oh, come on!" Cameron exclaimed. "She's fat, and you hate fat people!"

"I love this woman," Chase said with quiet conviction, not even addressing Cameron's comment about Danielle's size. He slid his arm around Danielle's waist and pulled her closer to him. He placed a soft, tender kiss on her cheek.

"I just don't believe it," Cameron stated, refusing to back down. "When we were together, you couldn't bad mouth fat people enough. I'd argue with you that it was a medical condition, and you'd say things like, 'Yeah, they should be sick about all the garbage they shovel in their fat mouths,' or 'They should be ill over their complete lack of self-control or self respect,' or, 'I'd vomit if I had to look at all that ugly fat in the mirror every day.' You were vicious."

"And, I was wrong," Chase admitted. "I've learned to appreciate the pleasures of a little extra flesh."

"A little extra?" Cameron asked incredulously. "This woman is a huge pile of – "

"That's enough," Ann stepped in forcefully. "This is my best friend, and I love her as though she were my sister, and there's no way I'm going to stand here and listen to you say these things about her, just because you were stupid enough to let this lovely man slip through your fingers. From everything I know about him, and what you've just said, you didn't deserve him."

"You don't know anything about me," Cameron shot back.

"I've heard some things about you from both Greg and Robert," Ann returned the volley "And let's just say you sound like one fragile, brittle, scary woman."

"How dare you!" Cameron's voice was rising.

"Well, you're the one who's going all judgmental on Danielle, which is one of your flaws, I've been told. You're forming opinions about her and you've only heard her say one sentence."

"Those aren't my opinions," Cameron protested, "Those are Chase's!"

"Well, not anymore," Ann observed. She directed Cameron's attention to Chase, who had encircled Danielle in his arms and was resting his forehead against her temple. "They certainly look like they're in love."

"She's so big, he can barely get his arms around her!" Cameron sputtered.

"Sounds more like you've got a problem than he does," Ann noted.

Cameron was seething at this point. Hale stepped in, "Ms. Cameron – "

"That's _Doctor_ Cameron," she corrected him angrily.

"Yes, Doctor Cameron," Hale said apologetically. "You're checked in and your room is ready, would you care to see it?"

"Fine," Cameron hissed.

"I'll get the bags," Travis offered weakly.

"And I'll help you," Hale added.

The three retreated down a hallway to the only room on the first floor.

"Who's room is above that one?" House asked, pointing to it with his cane.

"I think it's the back bedroom," Ann ventured. "Bob and Deidre are in that one."

"Fantastic!" House exclaimed.

"Why is that such a good thing?" Ann questioned.

"Whoever is above them is going to get an earful," House ventured, "And of everyone here, I'd love Bob's take on it."

"Color commentary!" Ann agreed. "Something to look forward to at the reception."

Ann and House were deep enough in their own conversation that they didn't notice their best man and bridesmaid at first. Chase had moved his hand to Danielle's cheek and was caressing her, while he leaned into her and was giving her a series of small, soft kisses.

"Take it upstairs," House admonished them in his best mock stern-parent's voice.

Chase and Danielle walked away with their arms around each other, stopping every few steps for a peck on the lips.

Hale returned from settling in Cameron and Travis and went over the last minute details about the wedding. House and Ann retreated to the third floor, where House started a bath in the whirlpool tub. After it was filled, Ann joined him.

"So, that's Cameron," Ann said.

"Uh-huh," House responded. At that moment, he was too busy piling soap suds on Ann's breasts and then blowing them off to really say more than that.

"You went on a date with her . . . "

"I had no choice if I wanted her to work for me again."

"And you never went out after that."

"Nope."

"Why not? I mean, she's pretty enough."

"Her face is nice. But that body – no boobs and no ass. Maybe if I were into young boys . . . "

"That's a sick comment, even for you."

"Sorry."

"But, if she had more in the way of physical attributes, things might have gone somewhere."

"Even then, I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Her personality."

"Well, you don't strike me as the type to enjoy rigid moral codes."

"You're right - too much like John. And, not only that, she wanted to fix me."

"I'll just never understand that impulse some people, especially women, have. You supposedly fall in love with 'Mr. Right,' and then you spend the rest of the time you're together trying to change him. It makes no sense. If he's 'right,' what is there to fix?"

"In my case, quite a bit."

"I don't see anything."

"Anything?"

"Well, not anything significant."

"What insignificant things, then?"

"I'd like it if you could practice and become a slightly better shot."

"Huh?"

"Well, you always just miss the hamper. If you could be just a little more accurate, that would be great."

"That's it?"

"Well, there may be something else here or there, but nothing comes to mind right now."

"But I'm so screwed up."

"No, you're not."

"Come on."

"Nothing I'd want to change."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I love you, Greg. You're magnificent just the way you are."

House listened to what she said, and the tone of her voice and the expression on her face. There was no mocking or irony or manipulation or subtext. It was straightforward and honest. It was exactly how she felt. He was accepted for who he was for the first time in his life. Which meant this thing between them had a chance to work. A pretty decent chance. Oh, and he was one lucky bastard.

* * *

Chase and Danielle had retreated to their room. Originally, they had gone with House and Ann to find out about anything else they needed to do at the wedding. All that went out the window when they saw Cameron, and was further pushed out of their minds by the sex they'd just had. It had been both intensely physical and deeply emotional.

They were lying in bed holding each other.

"Any regrets?" Danielle asked.

"I never regret amazing sex," Chase replied.

"Funny. I meant about Cameron. She's really pretty."

"In a small, constrained sort of way, yes."

"You don't have any regrets about what happened between you?"

"Yes, I do. I regret that I married her. I regret that I wasted all that time trying to get her to love me."

"It boggles my mind that you would have to actually try to get someone to love you. It's so easy."

"Not as easy as it is to love you."

"What you said to Cameron, that we were engaged – "

"Did that upset you?"

"It surprised me. If you were just saying that to get her attention -"

"I want to marry you, if you want to, that is."

"Yes, I want to, but I think it would be better if we talked about all of this after tomorrow, if that's okay with you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dani."

"Neither am I, sweetie."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the pre-wedding surprise. The next chapter will be the nuptials, so stay tuned!


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs

Despite Ann's anxiety about a rainy wedding day, it turned out to be sunny, and surprisingly for August in New Jersey, not too hot. It was about eighty with a decent breeze coming off the ocean. The humidity was moderate as well.

The inn itself didn't have any large rooms. But, there was a large, multi-sided structure on the property that Hale had converted into a sort of huge gazebo. It had a roof and glass on all sides. It allowed him to book weddings in all weather, since it was heated and air conditioned.

Given the limited number of guests, Hale had arranged the seating in two groupings. On one side there were a few tables in front of a long buffet table. There was also a raised platform for the band. This was the area for the reception.

On the other side, toward the back, overlooking the ocean was seating arranged in a semi-circle, with five chairs separated by an aisle and six chairs on the other side. Since the ceremony was brief, House, Ann, Danielle and Chase didn't need chairs.

The ceremony was at eleven, for no specific reason other than not wanting the reception to go too late into the evening, since everyone was traveling the next day, either back home or, in House and Ann's case, on their honeymoon.

The music for the wedding itself was simple and consisted of two pieces, one for the procession and one to be played during the exit of the wedding party.

With both Ann's and House's knowledge of music, and their strong preferences, they knew exactly what they wanted. For the procession, Mendelssohn's Wedding March was definitely off the list – way too hackneyed. Ann had considered Pachelbel's Canon in D and Albinoni's Adagio, but they were also way too much of a cliché.

Ann settled on Clarke's Trumpet Voluntary. It had been used a lot, but, Ann had requested it be played with a Dixieland rhythm, and the band they had selected seemed to be excited at the prospect of doing something a little different.

House and Chase stood, waiting for Danielle and Ann.

"Are you nervous?" Chase asked. His face wore a mocking grin.

"Can you ask me anything other than the blatantly predictable?" House questioned sarcastically as a rejoinder.

As Chase was about to protest, the music began. He all but gasped when he first saw Danielle.

Her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders, and it had flowers woven into it. Her dress was simple – it was deep rose and low-cut in the front, displaying her ample boson. It floated gently away from her body after that, until it stopped a little below her knees. It was sleeveless, and she wore a light, filmy wrap over the top of her arms. Her legs were bare, and she was wearing low-heeled sandals.

"Your girlfriend has a great set of knockers," House informed Chase as Danielle walked slowly towards them.

"Keep your eyes and comments to yourself." Chase wanted to sound stern, but his pride at her obviously lovely attribute showed as his face broke into a smile. "She _is_ beautiful."

House was about to tell Chase that he had it bad when Ann entered the tent, escorted by Tom. House couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She had her hair up, with a few tendrils softly falling onto her neck and shoulders. There were some flowers in it, similar to Danielle's hair. Her dress was green, and it made Ann's eyes seem even more vibrant. It had narrow straps, but otherwise her shoulders were bare. It also showed quite a bit of cleavage, to House's delight. It was somewhat fitted, considering Ann was visibly pregnant. House particularly liked the way it curved around her large, firm behind. It was about knee length, exposing Ann's bare and shapely calves.

After he checked out her dress and her legs, House's eyes continued to travel down to the floor and found that Ann had indeed kept her promise—she was barefoot, with a deep pink shade of polish on her toes. With the exception of the pedicure, she looked very earthy and natural. House was reminded of a fertility goddess. Since the last thing he wanted was a tent in his pants, he had to pull his mind back from a toe-sucking fantasy as those gorgeous feet of hers moved towards him.

Ann was checking out House, too. He was wearing light tan slacks and brown sandals that were closed in the front. He had a medium blue button-down shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled about half-way up his arms, and a tee-shirt underneath matching the color of the shirt. The shade of both shirts was perfect with his eyes – they looked even more intensely blue, if that was possible. His hair was neat, but not overly so. It still had a little of the wildness to it that Ann loved. The overall effect was that it looked like him, only a little bit more dressed up.

Tom gave Ann a kiss on the cheek and gave her hand to House. They exchanged a look that let House know Tom expected House to be good to and to take care of her. House still had his doubts about whether he could do either of those things, but he pushed them down. He didn't know if he had the ability to be a good husband and father, but it wasn't going to be for a lack of trying.

The ceremony itself went fairly quickly. Both Ann and House decided not to write their own vows or give any speeches then. For House, it was "just too much damn pressure," and, besides, he "sucked at expressing emotions." Ann had debated that second point, but, since she wasn't going to say anything, either, because the ceremony was "merely a legal exercise," it wouldn't be an issue if House remained silent, other than the exchanging of vows, of course.

House's favorite part was the kiss. And, for a man who had spent most of his life thinking PDAs were something to be ridiculed, he certainly didn't hold back. It was a deep, passionate kiss with a lot of tongue, and, House hoped, a just a taste of things to come later that evening.

The music for their walk back began. It was Purcell's Trumpet Tune, which sounded even better with a Dixieland beat than the processional music had.

The Justice of the Peace presented the couple to the group as Doctor and Mrs. House.

There was something about Ann's expression. House expected her to look happy, or possibly be crying, and he was surprised when neither of those things happened. Not that she was upset or anything, but she had this silly little smirk on her face. Of course, House couldn't help but be curious.

He realized he didn't have time for his usual differential; they would be starting the dreaded pictures soon, which would mean the loss of this goofy face and the obligatory, posed smiles. So, as they started their walk, House leaned down and whispered in Ann's ear, "Care to share?"

Ann's expression became a little bit sillier. "Nothing."

"Come on."

"Okay," Ann paused. "Ann House, Ann House, not Ann Expert."

House reacted with an amused look of his own. "How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"From about ten minutes after you said you'd marry me."

"You never considered keeping your own name, huh?"

"Not really. Although it's common enough nowadays for a child and a parent to have a different name, it's still very confusing. At least I think so."

"So, it's for the kid?"

"And because I want everyone to know I'm your wife."

"I thought it was just a legal formality."

"It is. And since I've gone through it, I want something to show for it."

"I'm not sure having the name of 'House' is worth it. It's ultimately John's name, you know."

"True. But he's not the one that made it famous. He's not the 'House' that people seek out when they are sick and no one else can help them. That's Gregory House, the world-renowned, accomplished, talented, handsome, sexy, loyal, loving man. That's whose name I'm taking. That's who I want everyone to know is my husband. That amazing, beautiful man."

House was torn. The old programming said this was just someone fluffing his ego, and furthermore he didn't deserve it. But, when he looked into Ann's eyes, that voice was drowned out. If he couldn't allow himself to feel good about who he was on the day he was marrying the love of his life, when could he?

"Thank you," he said quietly.

The photographer had been snapping shots all over the place during the ceremony and as House and Ann walked to the back of the building. As soon as they stepped outside, he snared them, along with Chase, Danielle, Tom and Blythe. House looked on enviously as the hors d'oeuvres and drinks were being brought in.

"I'm sure they'll save a couple for us," Ann informed him.

"Just a couple?" House whined.

"And don't forget the buffet," Ann reminded him.

"Given my state of hunger, I don't think that pondering the buffet is a good idea," House noted. He snagged some bruschetta as the tray passed by.

Ann was just happy he had the ability to be hungry. If things had gone badly the previous March; he wouldn't have been able to enjoy food at all. She smiled inwardly every time his stomach rumbled, and promised herself that as long as she had the ability and the means, he would always be well-fed.

Since it was a small wedding, and an even smaller wedding party, House was amazed at the length of time it took for pictures. The number of poses as well as the number of combinations was staggering. House went along with it for a while, for Ann's sake.

He hoped they were at the end when the photographer had taken multiple shots of the group, starting with Tom on the left, then Danielle, Ann, House, Chase and Blythe. When the photographer reposed the shot with Blythe on the left, then Chase, House, Ann, Danielle and Tom, House hit his limit.

"Why are we taking this picture?" House asked, and not in a kindly voice.

"It's a different pose," the photographer replied.

"No, it's not," House argued.

"It's the opposite of what we just did," the photographer contended.

"I know. So just flip the damn negative," House growled.

"We don't use film anymore," the photographer informed him

"What?" House almost roared. "I've been starving and standing in the hot sun for an hour when all you had to do was use Photoshop? I'm going to get some food."

He limped off.

"Well," the photographer said, "That was uncalled for."

"Other than his being right," Ann noted. "Let's go eat."

House was deep into the last of the hors d'oeuvres when Ann entered the building with the rest of the wedding party. She saw that the chairs used during the ceremony had been cleared away, creating a large space that would be used for the dance floor.

The band was playing some songs that Ann and House wouldn't be dancing to because they were fast. The other couples were on the dance floor, with the exception of Bob and Deidre, since Bob didn't like dancing.

The buffet was being set up, and Ann went to talk to Hale, who was hovering, but not obtrusively.

House watched as Hale re-arranged the tables into a large horseshoe. Hale then rearranged the place cards.

House was about to go talk to Bob to see if he had heard what Cameron had been saying the night before in her room, but he paused when the band leader made an announcement.

"The bride requests that everyone enjoy the buffet, including us. Thank you."

Ann loved music, but the last thing she wanted was to have to shout above the band while they ate. She had also planned for frequent breaks in the music so that people had the opportunity to converse. She had been concerned about the interaction between House's team and her family, since they didn't know each other, but the previous evening's dinner had demonstrated that it wouldn't be a problem. So, she had asked Hale to put everyone in a group so they could talk.

The food was light yet filling and delicious. House had seconds and was thinking about thirds when Danielle stood up.

"I'd like to make a toast," she declared as everyone quieted down. "I've known Annie a little less than ten years. We met when we both had the misfortune to work in the same terrible department in the same terrible 'soulless multinational corporation,' which shall remain nameless and hereafter be referred to as the S-M-C."

"Anyway," Danielle continued, "We bonded almost instantly, and we went through all kinds of difficulties together – bully bosses, divorces, therapy, substance abuse, violence. Looking back on it, it was a multi-year Jerry Springer episode, without the trailers, incest, and fist fights, of course." There were several chuckles.

"From that beginning in pain and difficulty came a strong friendship," Danielle went on. "So, imagine my surprise to find myself here today, with my best friend, my sister, marrying the love of her life – an amazing man in his own right – and they're even having a baby. I don't know that it gets any better than this – at least not in this life.

"And things have been going pretty well for me too," Danielle smiled at looked down at Chase, who was also grinning. "So, let me make a toast to the happy couple. May you always find peace and forgiveness and acceptance and love in each other. And here's hoping the sex stays hot, too."

Everyone raised whatever glass they had at hand and drank to House and Ann.

Danielle sat down and Chase stood up. "Well, Dani pretty well covered it – "

"_Robert_ . . . " Danielle warned.

"What?" he said looking at her. "I was just kidding. I've known House for about ten years, and worked for him for most of that time, except, of course, when he fired me. He did see the error of his ways and re-hire me, so we'll let that go."

House was shooting daggers at Chase with his eyes, but Chase pressed on.

"Anyway, I have to say he is a pretty-much impossible boss, but not just for the sake of it. He does it to make you really learn and he accepts nothing less than your best. And, in his own, um, unique way, he takes care of you. It isn't necessarily easy or kind, but it's usually what you need, and, you can't help but love him for that."

House rolled his eyes, but Chase continued.

"Ann, you're a very perceptive woman, so I have to believe you know what you're getting yourself into. If anyone ever needed luck, it's you. But, I have to tell you, if your relationship with him is anything like what I've experienced knowing House, you'll never be bored. And, it would probably help if you both avoided right hooks. Oh, make sure you never stop loving him. He needs it, and he deserves it, too."

Again, glasses were raised and the couple was toasted.

"Since Greg and I didn't write any vows, I guess now is the time to say something," Ann declared after she had risen from her chair. "I'm not sure I know exactly what to say. I could publicly declare my love for him, but I already did that, what with all the pledges I just made a little while ago. Not to mention the fact that anyone who knows me or has ever seen me with Greg and has at least half a brain must have noticed it. I know some of you are probably wondering why I love him so much. I could give you a list of all his wonderful qualities and his great accomplishments, and, as amazing as all that is, and as much as I respect him for it, honestly, that wouldn't really be the reason. I don't love him because he's a brilliant diagnostician or because he plays wicked blues on the piano. I don't love him because of how good he is to me. I love him because he's Greg – that amazing mixture of everything that is human - flawed and beautiful. Here's to you, baby. I love all of you. And I always will."

Again, glasses were raised. House took Ann's hand and kissed it.

"Okay," House winced, getting to his feet and looking about as happy as he would have if he were walking on broken glass. "Since my wedding night is coming shortly and I do want some sex, I guess I'd better say something good here. But, no pressure or anything. Anyway, if you had told me a little over a year ago that I would meet someone, fall in love with her, marry her and be having a child with her, I would have directed you to a place I am sadly familiar with, namely, Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital, because I would have thought you were a lunatic. This is nothing I ever expected. In fact, it was nothing I ever thought I wanted - because I believed it was a waste of time to want something I thought I could never have. So, here I am, the luckiest miserable bastard on the planet, getting what, it turns out, I did want. Very much. And this woman . . . "

House paused, the emotion overtaking him for a moment, "This woman is strong and beautiful and talented and smart, and I have no idea why she puts up with me, let alone why she loves me. But, she does. So, here's to Annie, my heart's deepest desire. I'll never stop loving you."

Everyone raised their glasses. Then, Ann stood up and slid her arms around House. She buried her face in the spot between his neck and his shoulder. House put his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers. They quietly rocked in each other's arms, oblivious to everyone around them. House finally snapped out of it.

"Hey," he told his guests. "We paid a lot of money for this booze and we can't have any. So, drink up!"

The band had returned to the platform. They played for a few minutes and the couples returned to the dance floor, except House and Ann. Bob and Deidre also hung back, while Blythe got up and headed toward the inn to use the facilities.

"Why aren't you dancing with her?" Ann asked Bob as she indicated Deidre.

"I don't like fast dances," Bob replied, "As you well know, Annie."

"Couldn't you do it just to make your wife happy?" Ann persisted.

"Why do you think I'm refusing?" Bob questioned. "I'm trying to spare her pain by not stomping on her feet."

"You're a musician," Ann noted. "Your sense of rhythm can't be that bad."

"His isn't," Deidre interjected, "But mine is. I'm the one who shouldn't be dancing."

"So," Ann observed, "He's been taking the rap for you all these years. How noble and romantic!"

"You better get the hell away from here," House turned to Bob," Or you won't have any testicles left."

"I have a couple of cigars," Bob stated. "Care to join me out back?"

"Sure," House agreed. "And I wanted to ask you about something. Did you hear anything from the room below yours last night after we got back from dinner?"

"Some loser trying to calm down his screeching girlfriend," Bob replied. "There was some pretty good stuff, actually."

"Do tell," House smirked as he and Bob headed for the back door.

Blythe had returned from using the bathroom when she saw a blond woman hovering around the entrance to the building where the wedding was.

_The innkeeper should be taking care of this_, Blythe thought in frustration, as she noted he was nowhere to be found.

"This is a private party," Blythe told the woman as she approached her from behind. "I don't think . . . "

"I'm sorry, I – oh, hi, Mrs. House," the blond said softly as she turned towards her. The blank look on Blythe's face told her that Blythe didn't know who she was. "I used to work with your son. We met once, maybe you don't remember me . . . "

"Wait," Blythe hesitated. The woman did look somehow familiar. Then the light dawned. "You're Doctor Cameron, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cameron replied softly.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," Blythe apologized, "But you look different somehow . . . the color of your hair – you've changed it."

"I went back to my natural color," Cameron explained. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Blythe responded.

"I was sorry to hear about your husband passing away," Cameron added politely. She knew House wasn't sorry about it, but she didn't exactly know why.

"Thank you," Blythe said, almost automatically. John had been gone for almost two years, and he'd been terminal six months before that. Blythe still missed having a man around the house, but the acute phase of grief had passed a while ago. "I didn't realize my son had invited you."

"He didn't," Cameron informed her. She could tell by Blythe's baffled expression she was going to have to explain further. "My boyfriend and I happen to be staying here at the inn while the wedding is going on."

"Oh," Blythe acknowledged. She barely knew Cameron, but the girl seemed rather, well, wistful, at the moment. Blythe felt like she should say something, especially since there was no one for her to hurry back and talk to at the wedding. _I could probably go home right now and I wouldn't even be missed_, Blythe thought, feeling just a little sorry for herself.

"How have you been?" Blythe inquired.

"Fine," Cameron informed her. "After Chase and I divorced, I left Princeton and got a job at the CDC in Atlanta. I like the work. It's almost as interesting as working for your son, and there's a lot less craziness, no offense."

"My son always was a handful," Blythe admitted. "So I can't imagine that working for him would be easy."

"It wasn't," Cameron agreed, perhaps a little too readily. "But it was never boring."

"You said you left after you divorced Doctor Chase," Blythe noted. "I didn't realize you had been married to him."

"Only for a few months," Cameron informed her, as though that somehow made it better. "I blame myself. We dated for three years, and I should have known by then that it wouldn't work."

"Well, he should have known, too," Blythe said in an effort to be comforting.

"He was always pushing me to take things further in the relationship," Cameron stated. "I was the one always holding back and trying to take it more slowly to make sure things would work out. I should have listened to my instincts."

"Well, I have to say that doesn't sound like the most romantic story I've ever heard," Blythe observed.

"I guess not," Cameron frowned. "I still care about him, though."

"That's very kind of you," Blythe acknowledged. "He certainly does seem happy right now."

Blythe gestured toward the dance floor. It was a slow dance, and Chase and Danielle were swaying to the music. They had their arms tightly around each other and were holding each other almost impossibly close. And they kept kissing each other – tender, soft pecks on the lips and cheeks, mixed with deep kisses involving lots of tongue. Cameron couldn't remember Chase looking anywhere near as happy at their wedding. She felt jealousy rising like acid in her throat. Time to change the subject.

"Well, your son seems to very happy, too," Cameron pointed out.

"I guess so," Blythe reluctantly agreed. She looked around for House and didn't see him right away. She finally spotted him through two sets of windows on the other side of the building. He was having a cigar with that friend of Ann's, what was his name? Oh yes, Bob something. They were smoking and laughing heartily.

"You must be thrilled to be having a grandchild," Cameron asserted. She was intrigued by Blythe's apparent lack of enthusiasm, but it would be too obvious to just ask her about it. "Do they know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," Blythe informed her, again without much interest.

Cameron observed her lack of emotion on that topic as well. "Are they having problems? Is the baby okay?" she asked, still trying to be oblique in her fishing for information.

"As far as I know," Blythe responded. "They had an amniocentesis last week and they'll get the results when they get back from their honeymoon, but, according to Greg, everything looked good during the ultrasound."

Cameron knew that even though an ultrasound couldn't definitively rule out Down's, many times there were physical defects associated with the syndrome that would be visible on the ultrasound. Without those defects, it was much less likely Down's was present. "Well, that's good news."

"Yes it is," Blythe agreed without much emotion.

Cameron was still puzzled by Blythe's reaction. The time for subtle fishing was over. "You don't sound like you're okay with all of this, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Well, Greg is happy enough, I guess," Blythe conceded, "But the way this came about . . . I don't know. I never talked to the woman until Christmas Eve, and then they move in together in January. I find out she's pregnant in April, and then they get married in August. The sequence is wrong, of course. In my day, you got married, then you had a baby. Besides, it's all so fast."

"You were probably used to his being alone," Cameron added sympathetically. "I only worked for him for a few years, and I'm surprised by this, too. I can't imagine your reaction, knowing him all his life and all of a sudden he does this."

"And it's not just that," Blythe continued. "She's very distant with me. And I know that her mother is still alive, and she has a brother. Why aren't they here?"

"Did House say why?"

"Something vague like they don't get along. Honestly, who couldn't bury the hatchet for one day? She must not think much of her mother not to invite her. It's quite disrespectful, in my opinion."

"I understand," Cameron said in a non-committal way. She had worked long enough for House to figure out that Blythe probably was too far outside of the situation to know much of what was going on. Cameron also sensed that Blythe was uncomfortable about something, most likely involving something Blythe herself had done. Sure, Blythe was older, but who got this upset about parents getting married after a baby was conceived these days? Well, it was a mystery that wasn't going to be solved today. And Cameron wasn't going to get any more dirt on House or Chase, it seemed.

"I have to get back," Blythe said, even though she knew she wasn't being missed. "Good luck to you."

"Thanks," Cameron responded. "Take care of yourself, Mrs. House."

Blythe re-entered the building as Cameron walked back toward the inn.

"There you are," Hale said as he approached her. "We've been looking for you."

"Really?" Blythe questioned.

"Please come to the table," Hale gently ushered her toward the seating area.

The band had stopped playing and people were drifting back to the table.

"We have a few things coming up now," the lead singer announced. "First, the groom would like to play something in honor of his bride."

House rose from the table and walked slowly over to the platform, minimizing his limp as much as possible. He sat down at the piano. "I wrote this for Annie's birthday last year, and, for some reason I can't fathom, she wanted to hear me play it again."

House played a couple of scales. "Here goes." He began the beautiful piece he had written for her all those months ago. Ann watched him, refusing to take her eyes off of him. House was concentrating on the music, but he would look up at her every so often. The love that was being exchanged by those looks was unmistakable to anyone not made of stone.

Before long, the piece was finished. It was so moving, no one even thought to clap. House went back over to the table and extended his hand to Ann. She grasped it and they went to the dance floor. They put their arms around each other and began swaying gently to the music as the singer began:

_How can I tell you what is in my heart?  
How can I measure each and every part?  
How can I tell you how much I love you?  
How can I measure just how much I do? _

_How much do I love you?_  
_I'll tell you no lie_  
_How deep is the ocean?_  
_How high is the sky?_

_How many times a day do I think of you?_  
_How many roses are sprinkled with dew?_

_How far would I travel_  
_To be where you are?_  
_How far is the journey_  
_From here to a star?_

_And if I ever lost you_  
_How much would I cry?_  
_How deep is the ocean?_  
_How high is the sky?*_

After a few moments, the singer paused. "The happy couple asks that you join them on the dance floor."

Blythe remained seated as each of the couples got up. Hale approached her and asked her to dance.

After the song was complete, the band struck up faster music again. Ann and House retreated to the table.

Hale had finished dancing with Blythe and had returned her to her place at the table as well.

"Greg," Blythe began, "You'll never guess who I just saw."

"Scarlett Johansson?" House guessed, "Is she devastated because I'm no longer available?"

"I think she'll somehow manage to get along without you, Greg." Blythe responded.

Ann let herself smile a little.

"No," Blythe stated, impatient with House's joking, "It was Doctor Cameron. Isn't that an amazing coincidence that she was here now?"

"Well," Ann interjected, "We did see her last night, so I guess it's not totally surprising she'd be curious about the wedding. But, it is quite the coincidence that she happens to be staying at the inn."

House gave Ann a "nice save" look. "You know, maybe it's not a coincidence that she's staying here. Maybe she's stalking me."

"Very funny, Greg," Blythe said dismissively. "What would a beautiful, successful young woman like that want with you?"

"Ann is young, and beautiful, and – " House began to assert.

"Why do you do that?" Ann turned to ask Blythe.

"Do what?" Blythe asked.

"Put him down like that," Ann replied.

"It's not a put down," Blythe explained. "I just think he should be realistic."

"First of all," Ann began, "It _is_ realistic for a world-famous, brilliant, handsome, talented, sexy man to think that most women would be interested in him."

"Weren't we just talking about Scarlett Johansson?" House interjected, hoping to diffuse what he saw as a potentially dangerous situation.

"Second," Ann continued, ignoring his comment, "I think he's had enough ego withdrawals to last a lifetime, just from his childhood alone."

"Are you talking about my husband's discipline?" Blythe asked rhetorically. "We didn't believe in pampering him. The world is a tough place – "

"And a child's home should be a safe haven from that tough place."

"It does a child no good to be coddled."

"It does them a world of good to be nurtured and appreciated. Especially the intelligent, sensitive ones, like your son."

"My son isn't sensitive at all," Blythe, "Why, sometimes I think he barely feels anything."

Ann paused, almost unable to process what House's own mother was saying about him. She knew she was furious, but she also knew she couldn't really let loose.

"Now isn't the time or the place," Ann practically hissed. "But, some day, we'll have a little talk about your son and his feelings. The deep, beautiful, tender feelings that he had to conceal and deny in your household just to protect himself."

"I don't think – " Blythe began.

"I told you I'm not willing to discuss this now," Ann warned in a low voice. "Let's just say my son will never have to go through that."

"How dare you judge me!" Blythe exclaimed. "You have no idea what my life was like! What Greg was like – "

"My God, I don't care what he was like - he was a kid. A defenseless little kid. And – " the music had stopped and Ann didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation, so she simply stopped talking. Blythe was about to respond when the lead singer started to speak.

"I have a request for a dance featuring the bride and her father."

Everyone left the dance floor and Tom came and took Ann's hand. "I hope you don't mind, Annie, but I wanted to, well, I hope the music says it for me."

Ann was still upset by what Blythe had said, but she stuffed it down and went with Tom to the dance floor.

Everyone knew the song from the opening chords.

"I hope you don't think this is too much of a cliché," Tom whispered in her ear.

Ann smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

_When you're down and troubled  
And you need a helping hand  
And nothing, whoa, nothing is going right.  
Close your eyes and think of me  
And soon I will be there  
To brighten up even your darkest nights.  
You just call out my name,  
And you know wherever I am  
I'll come running, oh yeah baby  
To see you again.  
Winter, spring , summer, or fall,  
All you have to do is call  
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
You've got a friend.  
If the sky above you  
Should turn dark and full of clouds  
And that old north wind should begin to blow  
Keep your head together and call my name out loud  
And soon I will be knocking upon your door.  
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am  
I'll come running to see you again.  
Winter, spring, summer or fall  
All you got to do is call  
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?  
When people can be so cold.  
They'll hurt you and desert you.  
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.  
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.  
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am  
I'll come running to see you again.  
Oh babe, don't you know that,  
Winter, spring summer or fall,  
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.  
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.  
You've got a friend.  
You've got a friend.  
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.  
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.  
You've got a friend.**_

Tom and Ann embraced as the music ended.

"My dad . . . he'd be happy with the way you've taken care of me," Ann told him as the tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I lost my best friend, someone I loved like a brother, to – well, you know," Tom said quietly, "With you, it feels like I get to keep a part of him. And now, the baby . . . "

"I love you so much, Tomaso."

"Back at you, Annie," Tom responded, smiling broadly even though his cheeks were wet, too.

Tom and Ann made their way back across the dance floor.

"She's yours now," Tom said quietly to House. "Make sure that you – "

"With everything I have," House vowed. He pulled Ann on to his good leg and embraced her tightly. She slid her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.

The music began again and people drifted away from the table.

"I'm sorry." Ann said softly, "I didn't mean to get into all that stuff with your mother."

"It's okay," House reassured her. "Some of what you had to say wasn't bad – sexy, talented, intelligent – I'll take that."

Ann mentally noted that House skipped over the part about his needing to be nurtured because of his sensitivity. She decided not to bring that up now. "Yeah, I'm pretty lucky."

"No, that would be me who's the lucky one," House countered her statement. "I love you, more than . . . well, there just aren't words, at least none that I can find . . . "

"I know," Ann acknowledged, "Because I feel the same way about you."

Ann moved her head from House's chest and turned her face up to kiss him. It was slow and deeply passionate. They stopped after several minutes and rested their foreheads together.

"Are you going for a repeat of the PDA we did at the Christmas party?" House inquired. " 'Cause, if you are, I'm okay with that."

Ann smiled. "I don't think I can sit on your lap for that long. I've put on some weight since then."

"True. But it looks great on you," House responded, caressing her belly. "Still, you should probably get up. I don't really want to walk around in front of your family with a raging hard-on."

Ann looked over House's shoulder and saw Hale standing behind them.

"Did you want to talk to me?" Ann asked as she rose from House's lap.

"Him, actually," Hale replied as he indicated House.

"I'll have you know I'm already spoken for," House huffed melodramatically.

"I think I figured that out, what with the wedding and all," Hale smiled slightly.

"Is it time to cut and eat the cake?" House questioned eagerly.

"Not quite," Hale said. "Your mother – "

"Oh, great," House rolled his eyes. "Well, what?"

"She wants a dance with you," Hale stated.

"As you know, this isn't a traditional wedding where we have everything planned," Ann noted. "It was Tom's idea for us to dance; we certainly didn't plan it. She doesn't have to do this."

"I think she wants to," Hale responded. "Do you?"

House looked at Ann. "Are you okay with this?"

"It's your mom," Ann observed. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

"Coward," House grumbled. "I hope she knows I can't do the Samba anymore. The music better be slow."

"I think she's aware of that," Hale asserted. "So, your answer?"

"Okay, I guess."

Hale went to House's mom and then the band.

"And now," the leader singer said as people filed back to their seats, "the mother of the groom has requested that her son dance with her."

House limped over to this mother as the music began. After a short introduction, the singer began:

_Maybe I didn't treat you  
Quite as good as I should have  
Maybe I didn't love you  
Quite as often as I could have  
Little things I should have said and done  
I just never took the time  
You were always on my mind  
You were always on my mind _

_Maybe I didn't hold you_  
_All those lonely, lonely times_  
_And I guess I never told you_  
_I'm so happy that you're mine_

_If I made you feel second best_  
_I'm so sorry I was blind_  
_You were always on my mind_  
_You were always on my mind_

_Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died_  
_Give me, give me one more chance to keep you satisfied, satisfied_

_Little things I should have said and done_  
_I just never took the time_  
_You were always on my mind_  
_You were always on my mind_  
_You were always on my mind_***

As the music ended, House and Blythe stood on the dance floor.

"Greg, I – " Blythe began.

"Not now, please, Mom," House practically begged.

"Okay," Blythe reluctantly agreed. "I love you, Greg."

"I love you, too, Mom," House declared. His emotions were very near the surface, and the last thing he wanted was to lose it. He calmed down a little when he saw Ann approaching, ostensibly to hand him his cane. He pulled her towards him and they walked quickly to the back of the building and out the door. He didn't stop until they were down the beach and to the cove.

Ann knew exactly what to do. She said nothing and simply drew House into her arms. He buried his head in the space between her neck and collarbone. Ann heard his ragged, uneven breathing. She rubbed circles on his back with one hand and used her other hand to run her fingers through his hair.

After a few minutes, his breathing evened out. He lifted his head and looked in her eyes. Considering how upset he was, his face didn't look that bad.

"I hope she didn't request that song because of what I said," Ann told him. "If she did, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," House responded.

"Me and my big mouth. I'm always causing you trouble."

"First, we don't know that she did that because of your talking to her. Second, you were defending me. I appreciate that."

"Really? Are you sure it isn't more trouble than it's worth?"

"Sometimes, it is. But, it still feels good to have someone on my side. I've been alone for so long . . . "

Ann put her hands on House's face. "Not any more. Not for the rest of your life, assuming you die first, that is."

"Talking about my death is a sure way to cheer me up."

"I thought so. We better get back. Everyone is waiting for dessert."

"No point in dwelling on my mortality when there's almond cake."

"With marzipan."

"Let's go."

Ann smiled and slid her arms around House's waist. He draped his left arm over her shoulder and they walked back.

There was cake and yet more dancing. The reception ended shortly after a brilliant orange and pink sunset.

* * *

*Irving Berlin

**Carole King

***Wayne Carson Thompson; Johnny Christopher; Mark James

* * *

A/N: And so you have the wedding chapter. Sorry it took so long (it seemed even longer to write it, believe me). I literally agonized over the music selections, so I hope you liked them, or, at least, you thought they worked in the story. And ten points and bragging rights to anyone who can find the two references to Hugh Laurie's pre-House career in this chapter.


	52. Chapter 52

A/N: Okay, points and bragging rights go to JiraiyasGirl. The references to Hugh's pre-House career were "walking on broken glass" as House stood up to make a toast at the reception (Annie Lenox's video for that song featured Hugh in eighteenth-century garb), and when House said he could no longer do the Samba (which was the dance featured in Hugh's film, "The Girl from Rio.") I'm surprised there were no comments about the Monty Python reference, either, but maybe it was too obscure. Thanks for playing, and on to the honeymoon!

And, guess what? If you like Chase-Danielle, you're going to going to want to read this chapter. And if you like House-Ann, you're also going to want to read this chapter. Why both? Call it writer's revenge, heh, heh, heh.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc, Except OCs

Honestly, House couldn't tell much difference between unmarried sex and married sex. Of course, he had always suspected it had more to do with who you were having sex with than your legal status. Validation of that idea was satisfying, but the sex itself was better.

And surprisingly enough, better still was the closeness. House had certainly never thought of himself as the cuddly type, but, even on a warm night, there was something that felt so good about sleeping with Ann. He wasn't sure if it was her smell, the sounds she made in her sleep, the softness of her skin, or the way she draped herself over him. It really didn't matter, he guessed, but he found himself pleased to think that this closeness was going to last for a while.

It was something he had never known before. The only touches he'd encountered when he was a child were hurtful ones. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true, but they were definitely the only ones he'd remembered because of how spectacularly awful they were.

He'd certainly had enough sex when he was younger. But that was all it was. Even in the last couple of years before he'd met Ann, when he'd been remembering his time with Cuddy all those years ago, in his confusion and need he'd somehow managed to convince himself that their encounter had been more than what it actually was - a glorified one-night stand.

Of course, his relationship with Stacy had lasted a lot longer than one night. But, even then, it was never about touching. It was interesting and exciting and hot when it was working, but it was never about physical closeness beyond the sex act itself. Neither of them wanted that, or so he thought.

He imagined that was why it hadn't really bothered him when they had gotten back together and had sex and she'd left to go back home. Her going back to Mark didn't make him happy, to say the least, but the act of her leaving him wasn't upsetting. He had figured out that was because he was used to it. It felt normal to him to have sex with Stacy and then have her leave the bed.

It was completely different with Ann. He couldn't imagine having sex with her and not holding her afterward. Well, maybe he could, but he couldn't think it would be anything but painful. He'd even convinced her that when she couldn't sleep and got up in the middle of the night that he didn't like it because it disrupted his sleep. It was a lame excuse, he knew, but it worked to make her stay.

At first, House thought he had become needy after Mayfield. Nothing like an emotional breakdown to cause you to want to cling to something. Slowly, over the course of many months, it occurred to him that wasn't the reason. Or, at least that wasn't when it happened. He'd needed physical closeness all his life, but had somehow managed to deny it all those years, which was pretty sad. The good news was, he'd finally found what he had unknowingly craved all that time.

So, he woke up on the morning after his wedding with his wife tucked in his arms. And nothing he had ever felt was better than this. Until he felt their son kicking him from Ann's uterus. And then he knew that nothing else ever had to happen for him to know real happiness. It was his now and it couldn't be taken away. Bad things could happen, sure, but no one could take this moment from him. And no one could take whatever future happiness he might have without his fighting with everything he had to keep it.

* * *

Cameron and Travis had apparently already checked out when breakfast was served at 9:00. Ann thought it was just as well, but House was a little disappointed that there was no opportunity for fireworks. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Blythe and Ann were still there, so there was a possibility for something to happen.

House knew Ann would do her best to avoid it, but he wasn't sure his mom wouldn't inadvertently blunder into something. He was positive she hadn't meant to say anything bad at the wedding, but somehow she did. House thought, and not for the first time, that his grandparents were on to something when they named her. House made a mental note to look up the meaning of the name David the next time he had internet access.

Instead of their having breakfast in the dining room, Hale had left the tables set up in the building in the back, and had invited House's team and their significant others from the inn down the block to join them for breakfast. It gave them an opportunity for a send-off meal and Ann, in particular, was very grateful.

There had been a lot of laughs at the meal itself, but as everyone started to leave, tears began replacing them. Not from House and his team, of course, but from Ann and her family.

House made a huge show of eye-rolling for the benefit of his reputation in front of his employees, but, secretly, he was okay with the displays of emotion. He knew Ann needed it. He'd come to understand that her feeling either happy or sad was okay. She could be mad at him about something, but it would blow over quickly. Even if she were quite angry, she would still hold back from doing or saying anything too terrible.

The dangerous thing for her was feeling nothing at all. House knew when she was like that she was trying to protect herself by withdrawing and then thoughtlessly lashing out at anyone who poked at her. Hell, House had been the same way himself for most of his life. But he also knew that it was extremely painful and damaging. He had vowed to do his best to avoid being like that with her, and he knew she was trying, too. And he knew they'd made the right choice not inviting her mother and brother. She had all the family she needed right here with her.

House and Ann left at about ten-thirty, and everyone else was on the road by eleven-thirty. Surprisingly, House hadn't hated the event, but he was really looking forward to having Ann all to himself for the next few days.

* * *

Chase and Danielle were responsible for taking Blythe to the airport. The trip to the inn on Friday with Blythe had been awkward, but polite. Chase and Danielle weren't looking forward to that again. They had no idea what an interesting trip awaited them.

Blythe was quiet for the first fifteen minutes or so. Danielle, much to her later regret, decided that she needed to break the ice.

"Well," she said, turning to look in the back seat where Blythe was sitting, "That was a lovely wedding, wasn't it?"

"Are you talking to me?" Blythe asked.

"Since you never ask a straight guy if anything is 'lovely,' "Chase interjected, "That would be a yes."

Danielle observed that Blythe was a little taken aback by the harsh tone of Chase's words. "He had a little too much to drink yesterday. He's a kind of hung-over and cranky."

"To answer your question," Blythe directed herself toward Danielle, "The wedding was fine."

Danielle noticed Blythe's lack of enthusiasm, and decided it was best to ignore it. She pressed on. "What did you like best?"

"Let me see," Blythe paused, stalling for time while she tried to think of something positive she could say. "The food was quite good."

"It was excellent," Danielle said. "I know Ann spent a lot of time figuring out the menu. Apparently, almost every caterer wanted to do some fake-Polynesian thing because it was a wedding at the shore. The Italian food was so much better."

"Well," Blythe agreed, "I can see where the food would be important to you, of all people."

"Hey," Chase jumped in. "What kind of comment is that? First of all, _you_ were the one who mentioned the food, second – "

"It's okay, Robert," Danielle attempted to smooth things over. It was going to be a long trip otherwise. "What else did you like?"

"The inn was nice, I suppose," Blythe conceded.

"It was great that the rooms were sound-proof," Chase agreed. "And the tub in our room was big enough for two."

"Robert!" Danielle exclaimed, color creeping over her face.

"Well, I can't say it surprises me," Blythe said with a hint of disgust in her voice. "You two were hardly subtle about your activities at the reception. It was quite upsetting to your ex-wife, I must say."

"Cameron was there?" Chase asked.

"She was hovering outside the building and watching you," Blythe answered.

"Well, that's a little creepy," Danielle observed.

"No, it's not," Blythe argued. "She's pining over a lost love."

Chase snorted. "Yeah, right. _She_ dumped _me_."

"I'm just telling you what I observed," Blythe stated defensively.

"And we all know how acute your observations are," Chase responded with a derisive tone.

"What does that mean?" Blythe asked, even more defensively.

"Your son was abused for years in your household right under your nose, and you didn't even see it," Chase accused. "And that's giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"What?" Blythe questioned angrily.

"Maybe you knew what was going on, and you decided to ignore it," Chase replied. "Or, even worse, you thought what your husband was doing was a good idea."

"A child requires discipline," Blythe asserted.

"Discipline?" Chased asked incredulously "Beatings? Ice baths? Being left out overnight in the yard in the cold?"

"It wasn't that bad," Blythe scoffed. "Greg has a tendency to exaggerate."

"Are you kidding? That's just the stuff he was willing to talk about. It was probably even worse," Chase insisted. "And even if that's all, isn't it bad enough? What did you do when he was getting beaten or forced into ice water? Did you turn up the volume on the TV? Did you go shopping?"

Blythe's face became increasingly red. "I don't have to justify to you what happened in my household. You have no idea what a difficult child Greg was."

"Yeah, well, he's a prick to work for, thanks to your husband," Chase almost sneered.

Blythe was furious. "Well, I don't think anyone who makes the choices you do is in any position to criticize anyone else."

"What does _that_ mean?" Chase demanded.

"You left that beautiful woman for this, this . . . cow . . . " Blythe stammered.

"Stop!" Chase was almost yelling. "If you say one more thing about her, I'll stop this car and leave you here! I don't care if you are my boss's mother, I won't listen to one more negative word about the love of my life!"

Blythe sat in silence and looked resentful. Danielle looked at Chase with tears shining in her eyes.

"What?" Chase asked her.

"You are _so_ getting laid tonight," Danielle stated as the tears slipped down her cheeks.

Chase chuckled as he reached over to Danielle's face and wiped away the tears with his thumb. "I love you, Dani."

"I love you, too, Robert."

They stayed with Blythe through curbside check-in. It was a long hour's drive back to Princeton, although their moods had improved considerably since Blythe left the car. They were going at it so hot and heavy in the elevator that they almost didn't make it into their apartment before they were both naked. They had sex in the front hall and then again in their bed.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," Chase admitted as they lay holding each other afterward.

"It's . . . " Danielle paused.

"What?"

"This is going to sound so lame."

"Just tell me."

"You have no idea how amazing it is to me that you . . . "

"That I what?"

"Want me the way you do."

"Why?"

"Because you're so handsome and sexy."

"And you're so hot."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're beautiful and soft and warm and I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

"Oh, Robert . . . "

"What's with the tears?"

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just explain."

"My ex. He used to drink occasionally, and when he did, his censor would be shut off. Once he told me he couldn't understand why I ever disagreed with him. Why couldn't I just do whatever he said?"

"Why would he expect that?"

"He said that I was fat and ugly and that I should be grateful he could hold his nose and actually have sex with me."

"That son of a bitch."

"Yeah, up until that point, I was stupid enough to think he wanted me."

"He was the stupid one. All that beauty and sexiness and sweetness and he couldn't see it. His loss, my gain."

"I know how you feel."

"What?"

"Your ex. I'm still astonished how any woman could leave such a gorgeous, sexy, courageous man."

"She didn't see me that way."

"Her loss, my gain."

* * *

House and Ann didn't hit a lot of traffic, except when they got to the highways around the City. Even then, it wasn't too bad for a summer Sunday. Once they were north of New York, the traffic on the Thruway was minimal, and they made good time on the Northway, too. They reached Saratoga by early evening.

"Hey, you just passed the exit," House stated as the mechanical voice on the GPS told them the same thing.

"Don't worry," Ann reassured him. "It's better this way. You don't want to drive near Broadway on a Sunday in track season. Besides, the inn is off Union Avenue, so it's better to take exit fourteen, and come back south a little."

"Whatever you say," House agreed reluctantly. He was the one used to showing her around his stomping grounds in Jersey, and he wasn't sure he liked her being the one in the know. Well, she had lived in the area for the first thirty years of her life, so he'd just have to deal with it. All that stuff about guys somehow inherently knowing directions was a bunch of stereotypical bullshit, anyway.

"So, you grew up around here," House stated after they'd exited the highway and they were sitting at a traffic light.

"Yes, I was born and raised in Schenectady, which is a little south and west of Saratoga."

"So, why aren't we staying there?"

"You're the one who likes to gamble on the horses. This is the best place to do that in the area."

"There's no place to bet the ponies in Schenectady?"

"Just the OTB downtown."

"And there's nothing else to do there?"

"Not really. At least I don't think so. It's kind of a shame, too."

"Why?"

"The Stockade area of the city is one of the oldest places continuously inhabited by Europeans and their descendants in the United States. A lot of the buildings date back to the 1600s."

"I didn't know that."

"Unfortunately, very few people do. They do a really piss-poor job of promoting the place, at least in my opinion. Certainly compared to places like St. Augustine or Savannah or Charleston."

"The climate isn't exactly conducive to walking tours."

"Other than the early spring, it's not bad."

"I was thinking it wouldn't be great in the winter. Why is it bad in the spring?"

"The river freezes in the winter, and when the ice starts to thaw, it literally backs up on to the streets near the river in huge sheets. You can't walk or drive there, but even that's actually pretty cool to see."

"Hmm, the choice is walking along the beach with a warm, gentle ocean breeze or climbing atop large, uneven chunks of ice, risking sliding into a frigid river guaranteeing death by hypothermia in minutes. Gee, I wonder why people prefer St. Augustine."

"Wimps. There's the inn."

Ann pointed to a large building that was located on a point of land dividing two streets. House had been looking at all the huge, old Victorian buildings that lined Union Avenue, with their turrets and wrap-around porches. This inn was certainly big enough. But, it was in the gothic revival style, with towers and pointed-arch trim around each of a copious number of windows. It was probably a little older than the other places, but it was still quite elegant.

They parked and were settled into their room. House was eyeing the whirlpool tub for two.

"We can use that after we get back." Ann noted. "We really should go and get something to eat before all the restaurants are SRO."

"Okay," House agreed.

"There's this place I think you'll like. It's about a mile away."

"I could probably walk there, but I'm not sure I could make it back."

"I don't think I could even get there, let alone make the return trip. My feet are killing me."

House was skeptical about Ann's claim. He knew they were standing a lot the previous day, but it wasn't like Ann was in uncomfortable shoes. Of course, he had no idea what it felt like to be pregnant, so he really couldn't discount what she'd said completely. Besides, even if it was just another fig leaf for his dignity, why argue?

"Are we going to drive?" House inquired.

"I don't know what the parking will be like," Ann answered. "I think there's a lot close by, but if it's full and we wind up parking six blocks away, that kind of defeats the purpose. We should probably take a cab."

The innkeeper called for a taxi, and it took a few minutes, simply because they weren't in New York City with twenty cabs circling each corner.

They got to the restaurant about seven.

"I hope you like this," Ann said. "It's an Irish pub. They have pub food, of course, including really good sweet potato curly fries, and an amazing array of beers - even some pretty decent non-alcoholic ones. They also have folk bands and a game room with darts and toys."

"Sex toys?"

"Toys for children."

"Hmm, alcohol, darts and toddlers running around. No potential for carnage there."

"So, I take it you want to sit at one of the tables in the room with the band, huh?"

"How 'folk-y' is the music?"

"Well, I think everyone in the Weavers and the Kingston Trio must be dead by now, so I wouldn't sweat it."

"That was cruel. And I know for a fact that Pete Seeger is alive, so - "

"I was just trying to allay your concerns."

"Let's sit down, okay?"

They were seated near the back at the end of one of the long tables that occupied the room. It was noisy and not exactly conducive to intimate conversation, so they fed each other their food and spent most of the time holding hands and caressing each other's faces.

The live music was an Irish folk band and they weren't bad, with tight harmonies and a really good flute and violin player. Ann was just happy they didn't use amplifiers. The space would have been too small and crowded for that.

They left after the first set was over at 9:30. House grumbled something about being "too damn old," but Ann reassured him that they were just tired from the drive. They didn't even feel like trying out the tub when they got back.

All the touching in the restaurant had not exactly put them in the mood for sleep, though. When they got to their room, House stripped down to his boxers while Ann went to the bathroom to change into a "little something."

House considered himself a connoisseur of lingerie, and he had the catalog subscriptions to prove it. But, he had never really thought about it when it came to pregnant women. Apparently, Ann had done some research. And some shopping.

Ann emerged from their bathroom wearing a baby doll nightie unlike any House had ever seen. It was made of see-through lace, in black, and nicely displayed her large breasts and expanding nipples. House wasn't sure, but he thought his lips might be twitching at the thought of suckling her. The top was split up the front, starting just under her boobs, which allowed her abdomen to be on almost full display. House could definitely feel his hands itching to touch her there. The final part of the ensemble was a pair of crotchless g-string panties, the top of which rested just below her swollen belly.

"Someone is happy to see me," Ann noted as she pointed to House's obvious erection straining to come out of his boxers. She sauntered over to him (well, as much as a pregnant woman could saunter) and slowly pulled down his underwear, freeing him. Her hand began to stroke him until he gently removed it.

Ann looked at him in confusion.

"If you keep doing that," House spoke softly, "I'm just going to explode in your hand in about thirty seconds. I want more than that."

"Okay," she acknowledged.

"My God, woman," House exclaimed, "You are so sexy." One of House's hands reached to caress her belly, while the other headed for her fulcrum. In the meantime, his mouth had found her nipple through the lacy fabric and he was sucking and licking.

Ann repeated House's invocation of the deity. "Um, I need to – "

She hadn't had the chance to get all words out before House lowered her gently on to the bed, and lay down beside her, continuing to use his hands and his mouth in the most intensely pleasurable ways.

Her orgasm shook her entire body, filling her with heat and pleasure. She had recovered only slightly when she saw House, his erection at full height, hovering near her entrance. His face was an exquisite combination of lust and need, with a slight look of hesitation.

"Fuck my brains out," Ann demanded in a low, raspy voice. It took only moments for her to once again invoke the deity, alternating it with House's name as he moved inside her, hitting her in the absolute perfect spot.

She climaxed again very quickly, her moans ceasing to be words and animal sounds taking over her throat.

House was more than ready, but he decided to hold back for just a little longer. After a few more strokes, Ann came a third time, her eyes rolling back in her head in sheer bliss. House couldn't stop himself at this point and he emptied himself deep inside her, with every nerve ending in his body almost drowning him in pleasure.

They held each other for a while.

"You are easily the hottest woman on the planet," House proclaimed as he pulled her into himself even tighter. "You know that, right?"

"Actually, when you're pregnant and bulging, that's not a bad thing to hear," Ann replied, smiling. "Oh, and you are a sex god."

House was about to protest that his age, his leg, his personality, and a myriad of other things made that impossible, but he stopped. He thought that it was time to bask in the afterglow right now. If he felt the need to self-flagellate, he could always do that later.

House became aware of something. "Hey, I'm naked and you're not. Can you take this thing off?"

"I thought you liked it."

"I do. It really makes me want to fuck you. But, I want to sleep now and the lace is scratchy against my skin."

"Oh. Okay." Ann got up for a moment and pulled the garment off. She put it on a chair and returned to bed.

House appreciated that Ann didn't question further why he wanted her to remove the lingerie. Yes, it was a tiny bit abrasive, but the real reason he wanted it off was that he wanted to maximize the contact between his skin and hers. Nothing felt quite as good to him as that. And if the spawn let him know he was there, that was icing on the cake.

House drifted to sleep in the deepest contentment he had ever felt.


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: Not a long chapter, and no smut, but I hope you have a few chuckles. Oh, and to Alex, the chapter starts out with House and jewelry, so there!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

The next day was eventful. House and Ann started with some sex, of course, and then they showered and ate breakfast.

The track didn't open until one p.m., so Ann suggested a brief stroll downtown. House was hesitant. He knew they were in a resort area and he assumed there were several jewelry stores on Broadway and the surrounding side streets, and it turned out he was right. He felt bad about not getting Ann an engagement ring, and he didn't want any window shopping to remind her of his lapse.

Of course, Ann hadn't said a word about it. House never found out if her first husband bought her an engagement ring and what had happened to it. He'd searched her closets and dresser drawers when she was out, and couldn't find it. Her ex was an accountant, and he'd probably been too "value-oriented" (read: cheap) to get her one. Or even worse, from what House knew of the guy, he probably insisted it be returned when the marriage broke up. Since Ann seemed to have little to no emotional attachment to her ex, it probably wasn't traumatic, but if the ex had wanted the ring back, it was at least tacky. It made House hesitate to get her another one. He didn't want to dredge up any bad memories.

He didn't need to worry about Ann dragging him to any jewelry stores. They went to gallery-type gift shops, and to this really cool toy store called G Willikers. They spent a good hour in there, ostensibly to look at "educational" toys for the baby, but House had a blast playing with all the stuff on display.

Ann just loved watching him. She could imagine that with the constraints John must have imposed upon him, there probably weren't a lot of toys or fun times when he was a child. Ann could see House having a second chance at enjoying being a kid with his own son, and it pleased her.

They brought their purchases back to the inn and left for the track. Even with paying for some parking near the front gate, it was still a fairly lengthy walk in. Ann had had made reservations for the clubhouse because it was air-conditioned. She had considered the grandstand, but in order to get a good view, it was necessary to be on the third level, and she didn't really think House would want to walk up all those flights or fight the crowds for one of the few elevators. If House did have the strength to walk, it was better to be in the clubhouse, anyway, because it was only a short walk to either the betting window or to the rails.

House had purchased a couple of racing forms on the way in and was assiduously studying them when the waitress came by to take their order. Ann insisted the one thing they had to get were the potato chips.

"We can get chips anywhere," House noted, with a hint of frustration in his voice. "Why do we have to pay this much for them here?"

"It's a tradition, seeing as how potato chips were invented in Saratoga."

"They were?"

"The story is that sometime during the nineteenth century, some well-heeled matron at one of the local restaurants kept sending her French fries back to the kitchen because they were too thick. After this happened several times, the chef got frustrated and decided to cut the potatoes as thin as possible before he fried them to stop the complaints of his wealthy patron. Thus, the potato chip was born."

"No wonder we get along so well. Your head is almost as full of useless crap as mine is."

"But, you use that crap, um, knowledge, in your job. It makes you great that you can make so many connections."

"Well, you have to connect things to design systems don't you? At least systems that work."

"I guess."

"Of course you do. And now that we've successfully refuted your imagined inadequacies, I have to go bet on the first race. You want me to put anything down for you?"

"Not right now, thanks."

House limped over to the betting window and returned just as the basket of chips with the dipping sauce arrived.

"I can't believe I'm paying fifteen bucks for the equivalent of a bag of chips and French onion soup dip. It's an exorbitant amount of money for a flashback to a forty-year-old bad experience."

"Let me guess, you were twelve when you smoked your first joint and ate an entire bag of chips and a whole container of sour cream and onion soup mix. Between your being sick and eating all the hors d'oeuvres, I bet it ruined your mom's bridge night."

"Luckily, John was away or I would have received a serious beating for that one, or worse."

"If you don't want to talk about this, I'll understand, but what was worse than a beating?"

"I already told you about the ice baths. Although he had stopped doing those by the time I was twelve. I was getting taller and it was harder for him to hold me under the water. Plus, I'd passed out once, and I think that scared him. He hated me, but he didn't want to do time for me, either."

Ann hoped her shudder wasn't too obvious. She reached for House's hand and began to stroke it.

"He'd started to do things that were more psychological by then. Making me sleep outside wasn't tough physically, unless it was really cold out. And most of the places we lived had warm climates. So that was at least as much about tapping into any fear I might have of the dark or the unknown. He also liked to take away things he knew I loved or needed. He'd call it 'removing privileges.' Like he would return the piano my Mom had rented. That gave me more pain than any beating. Although he wasn't a musician, so maybe he didn't know how much it hurt not to be able to play."

"I bet the bastard knew. At least you had your guitar."

"He even took that away once. He padlocked it in a shed outside. I think it was some locked he lifted from the base. You couldn't get that thing open with explosives. Believe me, I tried."

"Was that the guitar that Sam . . . "

"Yeah. Luckily, it was when we were living in Egypt. It was so dry that nothing happened to it – no warping or anything."

"Is that why you got into studying mummies?"

"I guess. It was fascinated by the science of it. And it was a good distraction when I couldn't play any music. I couldn't even sing. He'd threaten to hit me across the mouth if I 'didn't stop that damn caterwauling.' I wasn't even that I cared about the actual hitting, either. I was a teenager by then and I was too self-conscious to go to school with a fat lip or a bruised cheek."

Ann closed her eyes. Her mother never had a problem with Ann either practicing her instruments or her singing, not that she was helpful or supportive. And even if her mother had had a problem, Ann's dad would have stepped in and let her do it. She said a silent "thank you" to having at least one parent who cared enough about her to protect and support her.

"Hey, those were good chips," House commented as he pulled Ann out of her past. "Not worth the price, but not bad."

"You don't go to the track to save money," Ann noted.

"Let's see if I can make some," House said as he got up to bet the second race. "Have any picks for this one?"

"Not yet." There were ten races and Ann was concerned about the effect of all the up and down on House's leg, especially knowing that they had a fairly long walk back to the car. Maybe he'd skip a race or the rest in-between would be enough.

By the time House had returned from betting, their entrees had arrived. They were very good, but House continued to grumble that they were not worth the price.

Ann reminded him that with the exchange rate, things would be a lot cheaper in Canada. This seemed to pick up his mood quite a bit.

After the fifth race, Ann was still refusing to wager. House became curious.

"How come you haven't bet on anything yet?"

"I'm not very good at it," Ann responded.

"I could help you, if you like."

"I know, and thank you for the offer, but it's not something I do."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Gambling just isn't my thing."

"Then why would you want to come here?"

"To watch the people and see the horses."

"I don't get it. It's like buying a pack of condoms when you have no partner and you're too cheap to pay for a hooker."

"That's quite the metaphor."

"What metaphor? I lived it. Except I was willing to pay for the hooker."

"I know, baby." Ann leaned in and kissed him softly.

House was surprised at her reaction. Most other women would not be sympathetic about his needs and the way he chose to fulfill them; they'd be jealous or squicked out or angry or have any number of negative reactions. Once again, House could only marvel at his good fortune in finding someone who understood. Maybe it was all those years she was alone herself. She personally knew that deep ache. He leaned in to return the kiss.

House suddenly thought about something. "What do women do?"

"What?" Ann asked in confusion.

"You know, about, needs. You can't really pay for it, what with the male hookers being gay and all."

"Some women go to bars and pick up men. Not something I could do, at least after I was in recovery."

"It was what, five years from your divorce until you met me. How did you deal with it?"

"Well, there was Mr. Right."

"Who?"

"Not so much a 'who' as a 'what.' "

"Huh?"

"It was my nickname for my vibrator."

"Really? How come I've never seen him, uh, it?"

"Well, he was packed away in my moving boxes, and before I got the chance to unpack him, I met and fell into bed with this tall, lean, muscular, beautifully-aged, gorgeous man with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen and who fulfilled every one of my physical needs and then some. Needless to say, Mr. Right is still in a box somewhere."

"Oh. Um, thanks."

"You're welcome. My pleasure. My _intense_ pleasure."

House had always taken great pride in his ability to please the women he was with, even the hookers, but this much praise was making him uncomfortable, so he went back to his original quest. "Well, I can see your implement helping with the basic physical release. But what about the need for contact?"

"Well, between my ex's merely adequate performance and the rape, I really wasn't inclined to miss the physical presence of a man for a couple of years after the divorce."

"What did you do after that?"

"What could I do? I threw myself into my work and learned to live with the loneliness."

"I never thought about . . . God, I'm such a selfish bastard. I knew about my own pain and need. I never thought about yours."

"It doesn't matter. It's over now. And, it wasn't a totally bad thing."

"What? How is that?"

"It made me appreciate us. What a rare and wonderful gift I've been given. If I believed in reincarnation and karma, I'd say I was a saint in my previous life in order to earn what I have in this one. I'm so, so, so lucky to have you, Greg. And the baby."

House pulled Ann's chair close to his on his side of the table. She put her head on his shoulder and he put his arms around her.

After a few minutes, Ann remembered something. She lifted her head up and looked at him. "Aren't you missing betting on a race?"

"I didn't have any idea how to bet the last one," House claimed, "And the horses I was going to bet on are scratched in the next one."

Ann wasn't sure she believed him, but she decided to just enjoy sitting close to him.

They stayed for the rest of the meet and House bet a few more of the races. By the end, he was up about six hundred dollars and considered it not bad for an afternoon's work.

They went back to the inn and decided not to go out to dinner because they were still full from lunch. They used the whirlpool tub to ease House's leg, which was cramping because of all the walking.

They had a pizza delivered about eight o'clock. This innkeeper wasn't quite as accommodating as Hale, and made them promise not to "mess up the room." House made a comment about bodily fluids and the mattress, oh, and was that really an antique lamp on the nightstand, because it would be a shame if it were, and then the broken chair leg, but you know what can happen when the sex gets rough . . .

Ann assured the astonished innkeeper House was just kidding as they took their pizza upstairs.

"You really shouldn't piss her off," Ann noted as they entered the room and put the pizza on the table. "This is high tourist season here, and if she decided to kick us out, there wouldn't be any place else to stay."

"And she shouldn't be in the hotel business if she's going to be so anal about the neatness of her rooms. People stay here and make messes. And we don't even have any kids. Yet."

"This inn doesn't allow children under fourteen."

"Because teenagers are so respectful and neat. Hear that, Davy?" House questioned Ann's abdomen. "We won't be able to stay here again for another fifteen years."

"Why do you think I booked this place? After he's born, it'll be a while before anyone will take us but a Comfort Inn."

"She's a moron. She knows we're on our honeymoon. She has to know that, at the very least, the bed will be drowning in spunk by the time we leave. And that assumes we're not into the rough stuff."

"She might have thought we'd hold back a little, what with my being pregnant and all."

"So, she doesn't mind using the kid while he's in the womb, but once he's born, she wants nothing to do with him. Must be a Republican."

Ann smiled. "We should get ready for bed. We have another long drive tomorrow."

After fulfilling House's promise to get bodily fluids on the bed, they fell into a restful sleep.

House and Ann got a fairly early start from the inn. Since it was a weekday, they didn't hit much traffic traveling north, except around Montreal. They made it into Quebec City in about five hours, which was excellent time.

They found the hotel easily - it towered over every other building in the walled part of the city. Its gothic exterior gave House the briefest of flashbacks to Mayfield, but it passed quickly after they went inside and saw the lobby, replete with silk covering the walls, overstuffed chairs, and huge crystal chandeliers.

Their room was also large and elegant, with a balcony overlooking the Saint Lawrence Seaway. When Ann noticed the Fleur-de-Lys over the door frame, House told her it was the French-Canadian equivalent of a mezuzah.

Their days were idyllic. They would get up, shower together and thoroughly please each other. It was something that House had wanted almost from the day he met Ann. To say she seemed to enjoy it was an understatement. House was just glad the rooms appeared to be soundproof.

Then they would find a café in the old town and have a late breakfast or an early lunch, and wander around either the stores or one of the museums during the early afternoon. They would then return to the hotel for a swim in the pool, more sex, and then take a nap. They'd have dinner in the early evening, allowing them to return to their room to sit on the balcony and watch the sun set. They would then find themselves in bed for at least an hour of pleasuring each other, and then they would fall asleep.

House had always believed he would be bored very quickly without his diagnostic puzzles. This week had proved that wrong. Although he knew they needed to go back to "real life," he dreaded it. This was perfect and they were free of any responsibility, except to each other, which provided nothing but contentment. No dying patients to lie to him and lead him to dead ends. No difficult employees, or paperwork, or pain-in-the-ass bosses.

House knew it wasn't reality. They would return to the tedium and excitement of their jobs, and before they knew it, they'd be losing tremendous amounts of sleep, and not finding the time to shower for days on end.

And that was the good stuff. The resolution of the lawsuit and any developments in the criminal case would turn out well, he thought, but you could never be sure. House decided that he couldn't worry about it. It wasn't like worrying would change anything, anyway.

Their two-day stay in Williamstown was great. House had taken his woman to the theatre, and, as a reward for that, he'd gotten laid, and a blowjob, too. He'd never admit that the play had been interesting and that he'd been impressed by the actor who was the lead. What was his name? Robert something-something. Anyway, House had heard everyone had a doppelganger, and this something-something guy was certainly one for Wilson, other than the actor looked younger, more casual, and much more heterosexual. Whatever.

They returned home and resumed their routines. At the end of August they got the amnio results and the baby was fine. It was what House had expected based on what he saw on the ultrasound, but it was good to have a definitive result. So, he and Ann were relieved and happy.

And yet. House knew they were avoiding a whole group of problems that Down's Syndrome children had, but, he was almost ambivalent. He had never treated a person with Down's in his practice, but he'd certainly seen many of them in the clinic. He'd remembered a teenaged boy who had come in several years back. The kid was quite the charmer, and had gotten into the pants of several of his special ed classmates. Since he had Down's, he was sterile, but the mother had brought him in for condoms, just to make sure he didn't catch anything. House was impressed with the kid's ability with women. The boy even flirted with some of the clinic nurses, who proclaimed him "adorable."

But, the most memorable Down's patient House ever had came into the clinic a little over a year ago. She was five, she had fallen off a swing at school, and she needed to have her arm set. For some inexplicable reason, she took a liking to House, and since she wasn't very verbal, she kept kissing and hugging him (with her not-broken arm).

At first, it made House uncomfortable. She was so effusive, he wondered if she had been subjected to some kind of sexual abuse. Of course, it only took a moment for House to remember that most kids who were victims of abuse were actually withdrawn and fearful, not open and demonstrative. And her behavior wasn't anything overtly sexual; she was just affectionate. House realized the problem was his discomfort with PDAs rather than anything that had happened to the child.

The kid even kissed him after he pulled her arm into place. He had been careful and had given her a local anesthetic, but, still, it had to hurt. Yet, she seemed grateful, or something.

House had no idea what possessed him, but he gave her a lollipop when she left. You would have thought he'd given her a million bucks, they way she hugged and kissed him. And since she didn't appear deprived, House was forced to conclude she had just been happy. With such a little thing. God, he'd felt like such a sap afterward, but while she was there, he'd actually been a little less miserable.

House realized something as he thought about the girl. The day he saw her in the clinic was the day he met Ann. He had felt more crappy than usual being alone in the cafeteria that day, and had been more receptive to a friendly stranger than he had been in a long time.

Could encountering that child have opened up his heart just enough to be willing to try to let someone in? House pushed the idea out of his head because it was hopelessly emotional, and he didn't do emotional.

Still, it made him think that there were worse things than being the parent of a child with Down's. Especially if she had Ann's eyes.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N: Because of a review I received for the last chapter, I just wanted to clarify something. House and Ann's baby does _not_ have Down's syndrome. The child House was thinking about was a little girl he had as a patient in the clinic, and he was also thinking that _if_ they were to have a child with Down's, he could probably deal with it. There was also some stuff about the little girl he encountered possibly opening him up emotionally to find Ann, but that's not really relevant to the plot point that their son does _not _have Down's. Sorry if I confused anyone.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

House had just returned home from work when they got a call from Ginsberg. It was the Wednesday after Labor Day.

"You need to come to a law office in Trenton on Monday to sign some paperwork."

"What paperwork?" House asked.

"Settlement paperwork".

"The case is settled?"

"Yes, it is."

"And?"

"You are not allowed to discuss any details of this case publicly."

"Damn. My Facebook page is about to get a lot more boring. I may lose friends over this."

"Oh, and they have agreed to settle for seventy-five point three million dollars."

"Say that again."

"Seventy-five point three million."

Ann was watching and saw House turn white. "Is everything okay?"

"Tell her," House almost growled at Ginsberg before handing off the phone to Ann. He was staring blankly at the wall.

"Shel?" Ann asked tentatively.

"The settlement was seventy-five point three million, Ann."

"Holy shit."

"Holy something," Ginsberg agreed. "I may just be able to sell my practice now."

"Happy retirement. Isn't that more than we asked for initially?"

"Good memory."

"And isn't that unusual?"

"Very. Let's just say that a bunch of things came out in discovery that were, well, for want of a better word, bizarre."

"Okay, that makes it good material for a movie on HBO, not necessarily grounds to settle a lawsuit for that much money. How did you get them to agree to it?"

"If what Doctor Cuddy had done and what they had let happen ever got out, the hospital would probably be shut down, and every member of the board would, at best, be publicly humiliated, and at worst, have their careers and reputations destroyed."

"But they didn't know what she had done until well after the fact."

"But it was their legal responsibility to monitor the hospital. They should have known, and they certainly can't argue lax oversight as a defense."

"And aren't these really important people? Don't important people get away with things?"

"You forget, the more important you are, the more you have to lose. And some of these people's families have invested several generations cultivating their reputations. Besides, how do you think the wealthy and socially prominent get away with something? They pay their way out of it."

"I guess. Can they appeal or anything?"

"Verdicts get appealed. Settlements don't. And challenging anything in court brings it into public view, which is exactly what they are trying to avoid."

"So, that's it?"

"Other than the paperwork, and deciding where you want them to send the check."

"Greg has a bank account."

"You may want some of this in your name, given that Greg's a doctor and can always get sued. Of course, if Greg gives you any of the money, there may be tax consequences. I have the name of an accountant, if you need it."

"Is it someone you trust?"

"It's my accountant, so yes, it's someone I trust. What about finances?"

"Well, they just got a whole lot better."

"I mean, do you have a financial planner?"

"Greg has a stockbroker, I think, although he does some on-line trading himself, too."

"With this much money, you're going to need more than a guy who sells you stocks. This is a little more complicated than setting up an IRA, a Roth, or a brokerage account."

"I have a 401K with my employer."

"And Greg probably has a 403b, and you may want to set up a 529 for college for the baby. You could set up a trust for him, too. And long term care insurance is expensive, but it's a good idea to have it to protect your assets, especially now that you can afford the payments."

"Can we have you help us?"

"No – "

"Why not?" You sound like you know a lot about it."

"Just enough to be dangerous. I do mostly civil cases in my practice, not trusts, estates, or wills. I can give you the name of my planner. He and the accountant work with an attorney who specializes in taxes and financial matters."

"Things just got a lot more complicated for us, didn't they?"

"Yeah, but in a good way."

"Can I talk to him for a second?" House interrupted. He looked a little less stunned, but only marginally so.

"Sure, baby," Ann agreed as she handed the phone back to him.

"What is going to happen to my job?" House asked abruptly. "Everyone on the board and Cuddy must want to kill me. Can I even go back to work there tomorrow?"

"Part of the settlement requires that they can't fire you arbitrarily and that they have to follow all the procedures in their HR manual to take any action against you, just like they would for any other employee. In any case, after this, they'd be totally foolish to do anything to you."

"Well, they weren't exactly geniuses to get themselves into this spot in the first place."

"True, but that was before they thought there would be any consequences for their actions. Now that they've had this experience, they know they can't get away with treating you badly."

"If you say so. I just don't want my employment situation to become a living hell."

"If they try anything, just call me and I'll talk to them. I think they'll listen now. I have to go, but let me give you the name and address of the law firm where you need to go to sign the paperwork."

House handed the phone back to Ann to let her get the particulars about location and time. Ginsberg said he'd e-mail her the information about his accountant and planner. She thanked Ginsberg and ended the call.

"So, what are you thinking?" Ann questioned House.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I need time for all this to sink in."

"It's good to know now."

"Why now, especially?"

"Well, if this hadn't been settled or it had been a small settlement, we probably would have stayed here and I would have started decorating David's room. Now, I have to pull out all those ideas I had for a new house and contact an architect. You should probably do some research and we should compare notes so we have a list of what we both want. And once we know how much of the settlement we're actually getting, we should talk about a budget."

"Good idea," House agreed. Frankly, he was so stunned by what he'd just found out that the idea of a distraction appealed to him. "Okay if I start now?"

Ann immediately recognized House's need to do something that didn't have anything to do with the lawsuit. "Sure."

House fired up his laptop while Ann started dinner.

As they sat down to eat, Ann could see that House was still distracted. "Find any interesting features for the new house?"

"If you wanted a new place you shouldn't have married this old, beat-up House."

"You're not old and beat-up. You're middle-aged and you've experienced life to its fullest."

"Other than the ten years I was holed up in my apartment getting stoned," House dismissed her reassurances.

"What did you find in your research?" Ann persisted.

"Well, there was the stuff I already knew, like the house should be all on one floor."

"We could have a second floor with bedrooms, as long as the master suite is downstairs."

"Do you really want to be the only one who can get the kid? I can't very well manage stairs, a cane and a baby. Not with only two hands."

Ann didn't want House to feel self-conscious. "Some of my family is getting up there in years. It's probably a better idea to have guest rooms on the first floor."

"Nice try at deflection. I can see Tom taking the stairs two at time when he's eighty-five. Unless he blows out his knee running at eighty."

"You're right, I am deflecting – I don't want you to know how lazy I am that I don't want to haul my ass up and down the stairs."

Ann was still trying to move the discussion away from House's handicap, House knew, but he decided to let it go. "All on one floor then."

"What else?"

"Radiant heat."

"What's that?"

"Instead of a standard forced-air furnace, there's a boiler and tubing under the floor. The heated water from the boiler goes throughout the house under the floors, heating it."

"I bet that minimizes the dust."

"It does, and it keeps the floors warm."

"That sounds really nice."

"And, in the master bathroom, one of those huge, walk-in showers, with a bench and all kinds of sprays."

"That sounds wonderful, too. Do you want to set up a home office?"

"I don't know."

There was a pause. Ann hesitated to bring it up, but she decided to take the plunge. "I heard how concerned you were about going back to work now. Since we're building a new house, maybe it's time to revisit your becoming a consultant."

"Ginsberg said the terms of the settlement state that they can't fire me arbitrarily or treat me any differently than any other employee."

"You and I both know that there are myriad ways to get around that. If you want to stay there, and it works, great. But I just think, since we can afford it now, we should have a backup plan, that's all."

"Just an office?"

"Well, you'd probably want a little more than that. I was thinking almost like a wing, attached to the house, but also separated, so it would feel like going to work every day. And you should have space for other people – "

"Why?"

"Suppose you needed your team to come over? You'd need an area for a conference room, at least."

"And a whiteboard."

"Or, better yet, an electronic whiteboard. That way, if some of the team were with the patient, you could still communicate."

"Would that mean some kind of teleconferencing equipment?"

"Possibly."

"Isn't that outrageously expensive?"

"The prices on that stuff have come down quite a bit, especially with the advent of computer cameras."

"Sounds like we're gong to need some help from a techie."

"You married one, remember?"

"Oh, right."

House was silent.

"Listen . . . "

"What?"

"I know this is a lot of stuff for you to, um, digest. And if you want to take things slower, I understand. And we can do that."

"I don't mind the idea of moving, it's just . . . "

"You've spent the bulk of your professional life at Princeton Plainsboro, at least that's the place you've worked the longest. It would be difficult for you to give that up."

"After everything that's happened, not as difficult as you think."

"I know, but this is a lot to absorb. Going from bachelorhood to being married, from no children to an infant, moving in less than a year from a small apartment to a decent-sized rented house to a larger, custom-built home, and then we start talking about your leaving your job . . . "

"It's okay."

"And it's also okay to admit that it's hard to deal with all of that."

"I'm fine with the marriage, as you know. As you so aptly put it, 'it's just a legal formality.' I love you, and that's never going to change. The baby will be a bit bigger of a, um, thing, just because it, I mean he, will be so demanding. But it is something I want you to have, and something I want to have, too."

House took a deep breath before he continued.

"My job, well, I'm not going to lie and tell you everything is peachy there. First of all, between everything I did and how Cuddy retaliated, it never was. Second, as much as winning this lawsuit is a financial windfall, it's not going to make anything easier. Just the opposite, in fact. And leaving, especially to go out on my own . . ."

"Scary, huh?"

"How do you know?"

"I left the soulless multinational corporation, which, at the time at least, was relatively secure, for a job with a start-up in California, during a recession in the technology industry. I knew that Bill knew what he was doing and that he was a good guy, but the rest was a pure leap of faith. For an atheist, no less."

"My situation is different."

"Yeah, you're way smarter, and world-renowned. And you have a solid financial base to work from, too."

"So, you're saying I'm being a wuss about this."

"No, I'm saying that you're better situated than you think. And that's what it's really all about, the way you think."

"You're not going to say that anything is possible if you can imagine it, or some such platitude."

"Hell, no! I can 'imagine' all I want, but given my awkwardness even walking on ice, I'm never going to be another Sarah Hughes. We all have inherent talents and abilities as well as limitations. But, in this case, you are not limited. I don't care what programming some people have given you, you are brilliant at being a doctor, and you can do that on your own, or at any hospital smart enough to hire you."

House was silent. It was true that for years he'd been told no one would hire him, that he was a mess, and difficult, and all kinds of really negative stuff by the people who he was closest to. By people who he had considered his friends. And, as much as he prided himself on not being influenced by the opinions of others, this had to have had some impact on him, he was forced to admit. If they hadn't been his friends, he would have dismissed it. But . . . House felt that old familiar pain of being on the outside looking in, of being someone people merely tolerated, of resigning himself to being alone. He snapped out of it when Ann put her hand over his.

"You okay?" she asked softly. She had seen a flash of pain cross his face.

"I am now," House responded softly as he flipped his hand over and laced his fingers between hers.

"I know it's early, but let's go to bed."

"No argument here."

They got up from the table and Ann put the leftover food away while House put the dishes in the dishwasher.

The walked down the hall to the bedroom, with Ann's arm around House's waist and House's arm over Ann's shoulder.

House was going to request that Ann wear the lingerie she had worn on their honeymoon, but then he decided against it. He still liked it, a lot, but it had been almost a month since she had worn it, and it might not still fit her. The last thing he wanted was to get her out of the mood by reminding her of how big she was getting.

Surprisingly enough, House didn't mind her size. Most of it was baby weight. And what wasn't had migrated to her boobs and butt, with a small amount accumulating on her thighs. A little breastfeeding and that would be gone. And, more surprisingly, even if the weight wasn't gone, House didn't care. He grown to love this woman and her body so much, it didn't need to be perfect, or, quite honestly, any where near it.

Before he knew it, they were in bed, naked, touching each other.

"I guess this should be celebratory sex," House ventured tentatively.

"Absolutely," Ann grinned. "It's not very often you get to stick it to the man like that."

"The only man I want sticking it to you is me," House insisted as he pressed his erection into her thigh.

"God, it's so sexy when you get all possessive and territorial," Ann responded verbally. She also moved so that she could spread her legs under him. As she pulled his body toward hers, he felt her wetness against his already-stiff cock, which made him even harder.

"God, you're so fuck-able," he proclaimed as he slid into her slowly.

Ann made the most amazing sound. It was a groan containing lust, need, pleasure and something else. She began to grind her hips against him.

House knew he was going to have to pull out, but he enjoyed being right where he was. Besides her body clutching at him, her belly was pressed against him and he felt the baby moving around inside her.

He began slowly, moving gently but with some urgency behind it. He was fucking her, after all. He picked up the pace gradually. He felt her respond as the muscles in her body clutched at him more forcefully. It only took a few more thrusts for her to orgasm. He continued pumping, pushing her to another orgasm just before he released, his body stiffening and unclenching repeatedly in the most pleasurable spasm he had felt in a long time.

After they had both come down, Ann drifted off to sleep in House's arms. Unfortunately, House couldn't do the same. As much as he had enjoyed the sex, he hardly felt in a "celebratory" mood.

As he'd already told Ann, as much as he felt vindicated by the settlement, he knew his work life, which was no great shakes before this, was about to get even worse. They couldn't really do anything to him, but the Board and Cuddy would be hostile, he was sure.

And, the settlement had cost the hospital quite a bit, more than insurance could probably cover. So, that meant smaller budgets, no doubt for every department. And, of course, given his reputation, he'd be the one who was blamed, he knew. So, even if nothing overt could be done to him, every one of his colleagues would hate his guts, even more than they already did.

House could hear his father's voice –he was a screw-up and a failure and he'd never have any friends. He was getting pretty deep into the self-flagellation when Ann sighed, stirred and moved in a little closer. She was cuddling against him, which, happily, was something he'd had the chance to become accustomed to. She wasn't even awake, he noticed. She was pulling herself toward him by reflex. A beautiful, sexy, smart, funny woman wanted to be with him, even in her sleep. Pride suddenly surged alongside his usual feelings of inadequacy.

_Son of a bitch_, House thought. _Ann's right._ _Between my dad and all the crap_ _Cuddy and Wilson have put in my head over the years, I've been brainwashed. If I have to leave the hospital, I can get another job. Or I can go out on my own. I'll survive. And so will . . . my family."_

Thinking about Ann and the baby didn't exactly calm House down, but it did make him determined. He was not going to screw this up.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, and that the ending is so weak. I'll try to do better with the next few chapters. At least there are some interesting plot developments coming up . . .


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs

Since House was hardly a social butterfly, and since neither the Board nor Cuddy wanted to publicize what had happened, there really wasn't any fallout immediately after the settlement paperwork was signed. House simply did what he had always done – take cases, abuse his fellows, and gripe about clinic duty. He and Cuddy avoided each other, but they had been doing that for quite a while, so no one saw any difference.

At mid-month, there was a budget meeting for department heads, to give them an idea what their budgets would be in the next year, so they could start planning in the last quarter.

House had never attended one of those meetings. When Cameron worked for him, he sent her. Once she left, Foreman had taken on the duty, thinking it made him more visible to the other department heads and because he liked to think of himself as House's second-in-command.

Of course, House thought no such thing. If he were ever to have a second in his department, it would be Chase, because of his diagnostic ability. It was the Department of Diagnostics, not the Department of Paper Pushing, after all. House hated everything having to do with administration, and he assumed that Chase did, too. So he was, in his own back-handed way, trying to spare Chase the boredom of dealing with all the administrative crap.

In any case, Foreman returned to House's office to report.

"Why are you here?" House asked Foreman as he came through the door.

"I thought you might want to hear about the meeting," Foreman replied.

"Since when?"

"Well, this one was a little different."

House was certain there would be a financial impact from the settlement, and he could feel a knot forming in his stomach, so he needed to deflect. "What happened? Did Wilson stand up on the conference table and strip to Minnie the Moocher?"

"Thanks for the ugly visual," Foreman grimaced. "And I _used_ to like that song."

"Well, did Cuddy flash her ta-tas?"

"No. God, will you just stop with the repulsive images and let me say it? Every department is taking a fifteen per cent budget cut."

"Ouch. I guess we'll have to be less profligate with the whiteboard markers."

"Among other things."

"I can save twenty-five percent of my personnel costs if somebody quits. Think I can get Thirteen to pull a Cameron? Of course, I'm married now, so the I'll-only-come-back-if-you-go-on-a-date-with-me schtick won't work. But, if we went to all the trouble to get rid of her, we wouldn't want her back anyway, would we?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Don't you want to know why we have to cut back so much?"

"Another Republican governor trying to cut wages and destroy the unions? Oh, wait, we don't have a union . . . "

Foreman huffed impatiently. "It's because of a lawsuit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And that's all Cuddy would tell us. She wouldn't say how much or who was involved."

"Interesting."

"After the meeting, I heard people talking in the hall. They all assume it was you – either a lawsuit from a patient or the one you brought against the hospital. Which it is?"

House gave Foreman an exaggerated smirk. "Oh, you're just _too_ clever! I almost answered that. Great interrogation technique. Did you learn that from all your personal run-ins with the cops, or did your criminal bro teach you?"

At this point, Foreman was pretty much immune to House's remarks about his family's criminal background, so what House said didn't bother him in the slightest. But, he also realized House wasn't going to tell him what was going on, either. Well, he'd have to find out some other way.

"Just letting you know you need to figure out how to cut your budget," Foreman shrugged.

"Since you're my budget guru, why don't you put something together for me to look at."

"You're kidding me."

"It's either that or Cuddy will decide. And you know how she's felt about me for the last two and a half years."

"So, you're saying that if I don't want to the whole department eliminated, I better do a budget."

"Damn, you're good at this."

Of course, Foreman knew that House telling him he was good at anything administrative was an insult. Foreman decided not to respond, since there was no point.

"I'll see what I can do," he said in his most resigned voice.

Foreman exited the office through the door to the conference room.

House went back to surfing the internet. He wondered how long he had before the shit really hit the fan.

* * *

House came in more or less on time the following Monday. He saw Wilson sitting in the chair opposite House's desk. _Showtime_, House thought.

"Why it's our own kindly Doctor Wilson," House declared, his voice dripping with saccharine and sarcasm as he slid his backpack off his shoulder and put it on a chair near his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"This isn't fair, House." Wilson declared.

"As you know, my father was a prick. But I was still able to learn a few things from the bastard. One of which was that life isn't fair. Now that we have that settled, why don't you go back to fawning over your bald-headed cancer kids?"

"Those kids are about to have fewer treatment options, less research to help them, and access to fewer ways to help them cope."

"Hey, I'm willing to lend them my Grand Theft Auto game cartridge."

"House!"

"What do you want, Wilson?"

"I want you to stop this. I want you to un-sign whatever agreement you just signed and return the settlement. I don't want you to take down the hospital."

"A fifteen percent budget cut is hardly 'taking down the hospital.' I bet we could eliminate twenty five percent just by shutting down the clinic."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? You'd get out of clinic duty and you'd get to keep the money."

"Sounds like a win-win."

"Only for you."

"And your point is?"

"God, House, why do you have to be such a selfish bastard?"

"Other than an opportunity for you to state the obvious, is there any purpose at all to this conversation?"

"Give back the money."

"Sorry. Done deal, as you already know."

"I just can't believe you're doing this. I thought there were lines even you wouldn't cross. But, extortion – "

"Hey, I used to get you to pay for my lunch all the time."

"You can't possibly be comparing the two things. A seven-dollar lunch versus a multi-million dollar settlement . . . "

"I hope you're not trying to make the case that if it's a small enough amount, it's okay."

"Well, it certainly has less impact. Do you realize how disruptive this will be to the hospital? To the way we're all able to practice medicine?"

"Now you're trying to guilt me? Don't you know I have no conscience?"

"You do too have a conscience House; I've seen it."

"Because of your pathological need to bleed for humanity, you don't know this, but, for the average person, guilt only occurs when you've actually done something wrong."

"Okay. And you know all about how an 'average' person would feel because you're such a model for normality and mental health."

"I'm better than I was. In fact, I'm doing okay."

"So, you feel no regret about what you're doing?"

"Why should I? As you know, some crazy shit happened here. I'm just getting compensated for damage that was done to me."

"But you did so much crazy shit yourself – "

"Why does everyone think that because I was a little out there, I somehow deserved to be punished? And even if I did deserve consequences, they should not have been what Cuddy did to me."

"House – "

"You're a department head. How many people work for you? A couple hundred? If you had a difficult employee who was handicapped, do you honestly think that making him drag himself up four flights of stars, or taking his cane, or tripping him in his office is the best way to deal with it? Would you let Sam come to the hospital cafeteria to trip him?"

"You have no way of knowing if Cuddy had any idea that Lucas was going to trip you."

"Maybe. But she sure as hell knew about it afterward, and she did nothing about it."

"I always knew you were good at rationalizing."

"I'm not rationalizing! This stuff happened to me, and you know it! You saw it, for Christ's sake!"

"Well, maybe not rationalizing. But you are exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. Was anything I just said, or anything I said when I was deposed for the lawsuit untrue?"

"No, but . . . "

"But what?"

"Well, it just wasn't that big a deal at the time it happened."

"Now I get it."

"Get what?"

"Anything that Cuddy or Lucas did, if they had done it to someone else, it would have been terrible, but since it was just me, that asshole House, well, that made it okay."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"You have to admit, House, that some of your own behavior was outrageous – "

"And you're still being obtuse. The whole point is that no matter what I did, Cuddy wasn't justified to do what she did. She's my boss. She's paid to know better. And the outcome of the lawsuit proves that."

"I don't agree with that."

"We haven't seen eye-to-eye on most things for a long time now, so I guess I'll just add this to the list."

"You know what I find fascinating, though?"

"Oh God, more amateur psychoanalysis. Get it over with."

"That you seem to think this is fair. That you almost seem to think you're entitled to this."

"I am, Wilson."

"But, the House I used to know wouldn't think that."

"And I can't say I'm sorry he's gone, are you?"

"Yes, I am. He had some sense of restraint, some sense of humility."

"No, I didn't."

"You knew you were a great doctor, but you weren't arrogant as a person. In fact, you were pretty humble. You knew your limitations."

"Knew my limitations? Don't you mean I was crippled by them as much as I am by my leg? I felt so inadequate I didn't think I deserved to be anything but miserable. You honestly miss that pathetic mess?"

"You weren't pathetic; you just needed – "

"A rescuer? An enabler?"

"I was not an enabler, House."

"No, you just wrote my scripts and watched me spiral down."

"I'm not going to be held responsible for your behavior, House."

"Fine. As long as Cuddy is held responsible for hers."

"House, this hospital doesn't exist for you to play out your personal vendettas."

"This wasn't a vendetta, Wilson, it was justice."

"Oh, so now you're some avenging angel? Helping all the downtrodden of Princeton Plainsboro?"

"Naw, they'll have to hire their own attorneys."

"I just don't know where you got this attitude."

"What attitude? That I'm tired of letting people shit on me? It's the result of some decent therapy."

"Nolan did this to you? I find that hard to believe. You were in therapy all the time you were living with me, and I never saw you act like this."

"Let's just say after you kicked me out, I gained a new perspective."

"Why would that – wait a minute – you met your wife after you moved out of the condo."

"Don't bring her into this."

"Why not? She's the one who made you question everything, who turned you against your friends."

"She gave me a different way of looking at things, and she made me see that my 'friends' were anything but."

"She's wrong House. She's isolated you from us."

"Given what you've done to me, I hardly think that's a bad thing."

"And, of course, now that you're married to her, she gets to benefit from your windfall."

"Are you saying she's a gold digger?"

"Well, she is set for life now, and all she has to do is put up with you for a while."

"She's not one of your ex-wives, Wilson."

"Just wait until you get the money, then you'll see. She'll leave you so fast your head will spin. And she'll get even more money because of the child."

"That's enough, Wilson."

"What, hitting a little too close to home, House?"

"The only hitting that's going to happen is my cane making contact with your face, if you don't get out of here right now!"

"You'll see."

Wilson got up and took three or four long strides out the door into the hallway as House glared after him.

_God, and that's the easiest conversation I'm going to have about this_, House thought. _Maybe they'll just stay the hell away from me._

House knew that was wishful thinking. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he'd just have to deal with it as it happened.

* * *

As the days passed, there was no overt hostility. Of course, as he'd expected, he was completely ostracized by his peers. Not that he'd been chummy with them to begin with, so it wasn't too horrible.

It was troublesome when his staff would get thwarted scheduling tests, and he thought he sensed their resentment of him because of it. The way they felt towards him bothered him, not that he would admit it to anyone.

The weird thing was how Chase was acting. After he'd been in the surgical department and come back, he'd been standing up to House, to the point of punching him out once. But now, just as everyone else on the team was becoming more and more resentful, Chase had gone back to his old behavior of sucking up, complimenting House, getting him coffee and otherwise being obsequious.

House couldn't figure out why Chase was doing it. House certainly had nothing to offer him. Anyone who worked for him now was tainted with House's pariah status. It took a while, but it slowly dawned on him that Chase was trying to be funny, or, at least, amuse House. Chase's "performance" was just over the top enough to let House know it wasn't real, but not enough that the other fellows could figure it out.

It was a gift given during a difficult time, and just what House needed. House would have to find some subtle way to thank him.

In any case, in spite of his more difficult working conditions, House had been able to avoid losing a patient. He didn't know how long he could sustain that, but, again, it was just something he'd have to deal with.

Going home at night to Ann made all of it easier to take. She knew it would be tough, and she sensed how upsetting it was for him, without his having to admit it, which would have been mortifying for House, the-I-don't give-a-damn-what-people-think-of-me rebel.

So, she cooked his favorite food, massaged him when he was in pain, and otherwise stayed as physically close to him as possible. And, considering he always thought he was a man who didn't need it, House took all the succor Ann offered him.

One night, after Ann had given him a massage, and they'd had some intense but comforting sex, House was spooning Ann and slowly caressing her belly.

"I forgot to tell you," Ann began after realizing neither of them was going to sleep any time soon, "I got a call from Mitch today, and the money has hit the brokerage account."

"Mitch?" House questioned.

"You know, the financial planner Shel suggested.

"It didn't take long for you to become chummy."

"You let anyone manage that amount of money for you, and, all of a sudden, he's your best friend."

"How much was it?"

"After Shel's fee and the taxes, twenty-five million and change."

"And change, huh? Don't you sound blasé."

"I know. I just have this picture in my mind of bedtime at the Gates household. Bill: 'So, how much did George contribute to the foundation?' Melinda: 'Fifty million.' Bill: 'Cheapskate. He said he was going to do a hundred.' Melinda: "He will, he's just waiting for his accounts to settle.' Bill: "Oh. Sounds good. Just make sure he ponies up the other fifty million, okay?' Melinda: "Yes, dear.' "

House smiled slightly. "So, this Mitch guy is a planner - what 'plans' does he have for our money?"

"Well, he agreed with Shel that we should set up a trust for the baby, and a 529 for college. He also said it would be a good idea for us to get long term health insurance, and he thought we should possibly have an annuity in addition to my 401K and your 403b for retirement. He said he needs to know what our financial situation was before the settlement, too. He wants to meet with us. He said the first meeting would be fairly lengthy."

"Wow, a day-long meeting discussing finances and financial planning, with more to come after that. Just shoot me now."

Ann smiled. "And we still need to talk about the budget for the house. I'm thinking we should limit it to five million."

"Five million? Are your serious? What kind of a palace are we talking about?"

"First of all, as you well know, this is New Jersey, not Oklahoma; housing costs are up there."

"Still, five million? How big a monstrosity is this going to be?"

"It's actually not that big, maybe five to six thousand square feet, including your office space."

"That's huge!"

"For a guy who lived in an eight -hundred foot-square apartment for fifteen years, maybe. Compared to some of the bigger homes in the upscale neighborhoods around here, not so much."

"Well, if it isn't that big, why would it be so expensive?"

"It's a custom-design and a custom-build, so it's not going to be as cheap and one of those developments where you get three models to choose from and the builder knocks out a neighborhood full of identical-looking houses, and just like all the other neighborhoods he's already built. There are no economies of scale here. And, the features we want really push up the cost."

"I could do without the radiant heat."

"That would probably save less than a hundred thousand dollars, so I don't think that would make much difference."

"Every little bit helps."

"I know, but . . . "

"What?"

"I think the biggest expense, other than the house being custom, is the security system."

"How much can that possibly cost? They put in some cable, a few motion detectors in the rooms and a couple of keypads, and you're done. Granted, in a bigger house you'd need more of that stuff, but, still . . . "

"There's more to it than that. There are cameras that have to be infrared so they'll work at night, outside motion detectors, computer software and video monitors, and a lot of other stuff I'm probably forgetting."

"Jesus, Ann, do we really need all that stuff? I mean, this isn't the Philadelphia mint or anything."

"I know. You're right. It's probably too much."

House could feel Ann moving herself away from him as she curled up into a tight ball, or, as tight as she could around the basketball growing in her abdomen.

It felt cold where her body pulled away from his. House wanted to pull her back, but he needed to think about this. It took a moment, but he thought he finally understood. _She's been violated in her home, and then she thought she got away from it, only to have two of the people responsible for violating her contact her in her new place. And threaten to violate her again. And this time, she has a baby to protect. Too bad her husband is so useless._

"This isn't about your inability to protect me," Ann said, almost as if she were reading his mind. "Believe me, even if I had married a nineteen year-old body-builder, it wouldn't matter. There are three of them. And that doesn't include Lucas, who, although he isn't abnormally strong, more than makes up for it with his extremely clever psychopathic brain."

"Yeah, but if things go well with the criminal investigation—"

"Even if they get convicted, and they receive somewhere near the maximum sentences, how long do you think they're going to get? Ten years, maybe? And Lucas maybe even less. And then what? They'll be out and even angrier. If they'd rape me in the ass, they'd probably go after you, too. And David. Oh my God, Greg . . . "

House could hear Ann's breathing becoming irregular. House couldn't see her face, so he didn't exactly know why. It was possible it was from crying, but, it could also be from her panicking. They found out at her last appointment that her blood pressure had been inching up a little bit. She didn't need the stress to raise it further.

House gently turned her so she was facing him and enfolded her in his arms. "Shhh, take it easy. It's okay. We'll do whatever you want. Whatever the security people suggest. A steel mesh fence with razor wire on top, if that's what it takes. Guards twenty-four-seven. Hey, I've always wanted to say, 'Release the hounds.' "

House could feel Ann relax in his arms. "That fence would look lovely in an upscale neighborhood, wouldn't it? Our neighbors would hate our guts."

"As long as you feel secure, I don't give a shit what the neighbors think."

"The zoning board might."

"Yeah, well, we'll buy them off. We have the money now."

"If what's in the news is any indication, it is shocking how little it takes to buy off a public official, isn't it?"

"Yep. A few thou and it's a done deal."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I'd do anything to make you feel secure, Annie."

"I know that and I appreciate it. Too bad there's nothing you or anyone else can do. I'll always be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. Assault – the gift that keeps on giving."

"Bastards."

"No point in dwelling on it. All we can do is plan sufficiently and hope for the best."

"I once told someone, 'Hope is for sissies.' "

"Do you still believe that?"

"I did, until I met this amazing woman who decided I was worth loving. I'm still not completely sure hope is a good thing, but I think it's possible that sometimes, it might be . . . "

"I'm sure St. Augustine or St. Thomas Aquinas had something profound to say about it, but I'm just too tired to think about it right now."

"Yeah, me, too. Let's try to get some sleep."

"Okay, baby."

They fell asleep and dreamt disturbing dreams.

* * *

A/N: There is an obscure reference to Hugh in this chapter, and points to anyone who can find it. (Here's a hint: what do Jeeves and Wooster and Band From TV have in common?) As always, thanks for reading, commenting and the favorities and alerts.


	56. Chapter 56

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs

In their class, they were known by various nicknames. The Triumvirate was one, a play on there being three of them and the fact that all their first names began with "T." There was T-Sandwich, because of their alphabetical order in the class, Tamar (Tammy) Abelson being first, Teresa (Terri) Woslowski being last, and Tea (no nickname, thank you) Ng being exactly in the middle.

The most ironic name for them was T-Cubed, seeing as how they couldn't have looked more different from each other. Tammy was average height, slightly plump and had medium brown hair and hazel eyes – not an uncommon combination of looks for a descendant of Ashkenazi Jews.

Terri was tall, thin and blond-haired and blue-eyed. Her great-great-grandparents were Polish, but had come from the Northern part of the country that had passed back and forth between the Germans and the Poles for so many centuries that lines between ethnic Poles and Germans had long blurred, hence her Nordic looks.

Tea was tiny, with black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her ancestors had been Chinese immigrants who had worked on the Transcontinental Railroad. Several generations later, her father had come east to study at Yale, where he had met and fallen in love with a fiery young woman of Italian descent.

But, all that background was old news between them now, seeing as how it had been five years since they graduated from nursing school together. The friendship in all its combinations had been tested thoroughly by jealousy about boyfriends and professional rivalry, among other things, but it had held remarkably well.

Today, there was no drama going on between them as they slipped into a booth at Princeton Plainsboro's cafeteria to eat their lunch. They were way too focused on the drama that had taken place the day before in the lobby of the hospital, which Terri had been unfortunate enough to miss.

"I always did have crappy timing," she complained. "I never get sick, and I came down with a stomach flu Sunday night."

"You sure it wasn't a hangover?" Tammy teased.

"I only had a couple of glasses of wine when we went out Saturday night, as you know," Terri explained wearily. "By Sunday night, I was rolfing so much, I had no desire to ingest anything."

"Well, you can give us a minute-by-minute description of your illness, or we can tell you what happened," Tea interjected impatiently.

"Go ahead," Terri encouraged.

"Tammy and I were working at the clinic," Tea began. "We both happened to be between patients when the cops came marching through the front door."

"They asked Brenda if she had seen a Lucas Douglas," Tammy picked up the story, "And Brenda pointed them to Doctor Cuddy's office."

"He was in there with Doctor Cuddy," Tea continued. "They were talking and laughing about something, but that didn't last for long."

"The cops burst through the door of the office, which blocked it open," Tammy went on, "That worked out well for us because we could hear everything. The cop flashed his badge and said, 'Are you Lucas Douglas? We're here to take you into custody.' The guy looked stunned."

"How did Doctor Cuddy react?" Terri questioned, getting into the story.

"Of course, she asked, 'What's going on here?' Tea supplied. "The cop said, 'Mr. Douglas is charged with intimidating a witness, conspiracy to intimidate a witness, breaking and entering, destruction of personal property, trespassing, assault, and criminal threats.' "

"Oh my God," Terri exclaimed "What happened next?"

"Doctor Cuddy insisted it must be a mistake," Tea continued, "But the cops said no, he had been named by the victims."

"Victims?" Terri asked, puzzled.

"It turns out," Tammy responded, "That Lucas had gone to Doctor House and Ann's house earlier that morning."

"Since when is visiting someone a crime?" Terri questioned.

"When you break in it is," Tea answered. "They were asleep in their room while he was doing some sort of property damage. They got up and surprised him. Lucas tried to hurt Ann and got into a fight with Doctor House."

"What a sleazebag, going after a pregnant woman!" Terri exclaimed. "The cops said all this to Doctor Cuddy?"

"No," Tammy replied.

"Then how do you know what happened?" Terri asked.

"One of the cops stayed after they frog-marched Lucas out the front doors of the hospital," Tea interjected. "He asked all kinds of questions about whether we knew of Lucas threatening bodily harm to Doctor House and Ann. When we asked why, he told us about the break-in and said that according to Ann and Doctor House, Lucas had made a move to kick Ann in the abdomen and Doctor House had stopped him, apparently by stepping in-between them so that Lucas wound up kicking Doctor House in his thigh – "

"The one with the scar?" Terri winced.

"Yes," Tea confirmed, wincing herself, "And then he punched him in the face."

"So, that's why his face is all bruised today, and why he was walking on crutches," Terri made the connection. "And, I never thought I'd say this in a million years, but poor Doctor House."

Tammy smiled. "Don't feel too badly for him."

"What do you mean?" Terri asked.

"Well," Tammy replied, "When they handcuffed Lucas, they did it by putting his hands in back of his head. His shirt pulled up, and I saw some bruises on his stomach. They were shaped like semi-circles –"

"You mean like he'd been hit with the top of a cane?" Terri surmised.

"Uh-huh," Tammy agreed.

There was a pause in the conversation as Terri processed the information. "Wait a minute, you said they also arrested him for intimidating a witness and conspiracy to intimidate a witness. What was that about?"

Tammy smiled again. "We wouldn't have been able to find out about that, except the cop had the hots for Tea."

"Tammy!" Tea protested. "He did not!"

"He gave you his card," Tammy countered.

"That was in case I remembered anything else," Tea insisted.

"Just let us know how the first date goes, okay?" Terri cut in, exasperated at the detour. "Tell me about the witness stuff."

"Well, you know that Ann was attacked several years ago, right?" Tea asked, thankful to get off the topic of the good-looking cop.

"She said something about it at the hospital Christmas party last year," Terri acknowledged.

"Anyway, the cop said that Lucas somehow contacted her attackers in prison," Tammy explained, "And that he gave them her cell phone number and they called her and threatened her."

"That's just so awful," Terri remarked. "I hope they lock him up and throw away the key."

"Chad did say that if they could convict him on all the charges, he was looking at some serious prison time," Tea noted.

"Chad?" Tammy questioned.

"He said it was okay if I used his first name," Tea responded defensively.

"Before we start to bust on you about your latest boyfriend," Terri said, "Any other juicy gossip about this incident?"

"Oh, yeah," Tammy answered, "I almost forgot. Yesterday afternoon, I overheard Brenda talking to one of the other nursing department heads. Apparently, there's been a special board meeting called, and then they're going to schedule a meeting with the hospital staff after that."

"Did Brenda know what it was about?" Terri inquired.

"No," Tammy answered, "But she thought that since it was being scheduled so closely to what happened yesterday morning, it had to be about Doctor Cuddy. She thought that between Doctor Cuddy's boyfriend being arrested, on hospital grounds, no less, and the lawsuit, Doctor Cuddy was in some serious trouble."

"Did she think they were going to fire her?" Tea asked, having not heard the conversation herself.

"She said they usually didn't do that with people that high up in the organization," Tammy reported. "But, she thought they would very likely take away a lot of her responsibilities, and probably create some 'special assignment' job for her."

"Wow," Terri said. "Did Brenda seem upset about that?"

"No," Tammy stated. "She said that Doctor Cuddy had been in the job for ten years, and it was probably time for a change, even if Doctor Cuddy hadn't been acting so strangely the last few years."

"Acting strangely?" Tea questioned. "Did she give any specifics?"

"No," Tammy answered. "She did say that after Doctor Cuddy came back from maternity leave with her daughter, she just wasn't the same. She said Doctor Cuddy became judgmental, vindictive, petty and immature."

"I thought kids were supposed to give you some perspective about what was important, and make you more mature and forgiving," Terri noted. "At least that's what my mom says."

"I think if have them at thirteen, probably not," Tea asserted. "But, if you're past forty, you would think so. Apparently, that wasn't the case with Doctor Cuddy."

"Well, that's not our problem," Tammy observed. "So, can we talk about Chad, now?"

"Oh, look," Tea, said, checking her watch, "Lunch is over. We have to get back to work."

"Gee," Tammy said, "I never knew you were such a conscientious employee."

"Hey, I love my job," Tea contended.

"Whatever you say," Terri responded with skepticism. "Just don't think you can avoid us at break time."

"Terrific," Tea groaned.

The three friends got up from the table, returned their trays and headed back to the clinic for the afternoon.

* * *

House was on crutches for about a week, and the bruises slowly faded from his face. He and Ann were tremendously relieved when they found out Lucas had been denied bail. For obvious reasons, Ann was still extremely stressed. Her OB/GYN convinced her to start her maternity leave.

Of course, all that did was free up Ann's time to search for a piece of property, which she and the realtor found rather quickly due to the depressed housing market. Ann then began meetings with the architect, who worked quickly getting a design together. He also brought in an interior designer, so they wouldn't be overwhelmed with all the choices they had to make, and who could help keep them on budget.

In the meantime, House had somehow managed to get though three meetings with Ann and the financial planner, who went off to implement the agreed-upon recommendations.

House suspected all this activity was too much for Ann, but he also knew that having her sit at home with nothing to do would be even more stressful. She'd obsess about the break-in and be anxious about the up-coming court dates, so at least all this stuff was a more pleasant distraction.

They were sitting at home one night talking about architectural details after dinner.

House had wanted takeout because he didn't want Ann on her feet too long. She was eight months pregnant, and her ankles were beginning to swell.

Ann enjoyed cooking, and so she insisted on making dinner in an attempt to relax herself. It seemed to work, as they talked and snuggled the couch, enjoying some time to themselves. Even though they were both first time parents, they were old enough not to have any illusions about the disruption a newborn would create in their lives. They both wanted the baby very much, but they were realistic that they wouldn't be having quiet evenings all to themselves, really, until the kid went away to college.

As House's cell rang, Ann rolled her eyes. "It's not the hospital, is it?

House looked at the number. "It's not anyone on my team. Hello. Stacy? Well, this is a surprise. I'm fine, and I don't want to waste a lot of time on mindless pleasantries, blah, blah. What do you want? About what? You're where? I don't know, hang on."

House put his hand over the speaker. "Apparently, my ex-girlfriend is sitting in her car, parked on the street in front of our house. She wants to come in and talk to me. Are you okay with that?"

"Now? What does she want?"

"She won't tell me unless she can talk to me in person."

"Well, I know you and your curiosity. Tell her it's okay."

House gave his consent and in barely five minutes, the doorbell rang.

"Hi, Greg," Stacy greeted him when he opened to front door. He motioned for her to come in.

"You have a lovely home," Stacy commented.

"We're renting this place and we're building a new one, so you can spare me the socially acceptable small talk. Especially when it's getting late enough for my wife to want to go to bed," House stated.

"Hi, I'm Ann," she stood up and made her way over to where Stacy stood.

Stacy's eyes couldn't help but travel to Ann's very large belly. "Congratulations," she said, sounding at least somewhat sincere. "When are you due?"

"Mid-November," Ann replied.

"Which means I don't have much time left to enjoy the effects of those pregnancy hormones on her libido," House noted. "So, can we cut to the chase?"

"Nice to know some things never change, like your lack of class," Stacy observed with an eye-roll.

They went into the living room and sat down.

"Why are you here?" House asked.

"I'm concerned about Lisa," Stacy began.

"What?" House asked. "You mean Cuddy?"

"Yes, that woman that's been your boss for ten years," Stacy said with exasperation, "And your friend . . . "

"She's no longer my friend," House interjected. "We haven't spoken about anything but hospital business for a long time."

"I can't believe that," Stacy said. "I mean, you got married and I'm sure she went to your wedding . . . "

"Nope," House stated flatly.

"That can't be true!" Stacy exclaimed. "Wilson would have told me."

"He wouldn't have known," House responded, "Since he wasn't there, either."

"What?" Stacy was incredulous. "Wilson wasn't at your wedding? Was he on the verge of death? Was he traveling and his plane was hijacked by terrorists? Because those are the only reasons your BFF wouldn't be at your wedding."

"Either that, or he's not my BFF any more," House postulated.

"Okay, now I'm in the Twilight Zone," Stacy stated. "What the hell happened?"

"I would say Sam happened," House asserted. "I was living with him after I got out of Mayfield. He hooked up with Sam, and he couldn't get me out of the condo fast enough."

"And what would Wilson say?" Stacy asked.

"Wilson would probably say that _I_ happened," Ann interjected. She had been so quiet for the whole time that House and Stacy were speaking that they had almost forgotten she was in the room.

"Hey," House remembered. "Why the hell are we talking about Wilson when you said you came here to discuss Cuddy?"

"Sorry," Stacy apologized after she realized she had become sidetracked. "I'm worried about her, Greg."

"Why?" House questioned.

"Well, since you haven't been talking to her about anything personal, then I guess you wouldn't know what's happening to her," Stacy began. "She hired a criminal attorney I recommended to defend Lucas after . . . "

"He was arrested for what he did," Ann summarized. "Should you even be talking to us? Is there some sort of confidentially thing here?"

"Lucas is not my client and he is not being defended by anyone in my firm," Stacy stated with a slight note of condescension in her voice. "In any case, I'm here about Lisa."

"Just get on with it!" House almost snarled.

"Just before the adoption was finalized, about nine months ago, Rachel's grandparents decided they wanted to raise their grandchild, and they started legal proceedings to obtain custody, so the adoption was put on hold," Stacy informed them. "After everything happened with Lucas, Lisa was then cohabitating with someone who was accused of criminal behavior. Between that and the familial claim, Rachel's grandparents were able to take her away and she's gone to live with them."

"Wait a minute," House said, completely stunned by what Stacy had just told them, "I thought Rachael's grandparents had given up all rights when Rachel's birth mother died."

"Rachel's maternal grandparents did." Stacy confirmed, "But her paternal grandparents didn't. They're the ones who have Rachel now. And, as I'm sure you're aware, the case with Lucas isn't going too well, either."

"So, she's lost everything," House noted dispassionately.

"That's all you have to say?" Stacy asked in frustration.

"What do you want me to say, Stacy?" House asked, equally exasperated.

"Greg," Stacy said, "It's not what I want you to say, at least to me. I want you to do or say something to Lisa, something that will help her."

"What?" House questioned incredulously. "I just told you that Cuddy and I are no longer friends and that we don't talk about anything but hospital business, and not even that if we can avoid it. What makes you think she'd listen to anything I have to say about her life? And even if she would, what exactly would I say? Tell me the magic words that would make her believe that her life doesn't suck."

"It's not about 'magic words,' and you know it," Stacy declared. "She's just needs someone to support to her right now."

"Really?" Ann asked incredulously. "After everything that's happened? Her psychotic boyfriend came after us!"

"I've spoken to her and she deeply regrets that," Stacy informed them. "She told me she had no idea what Lucas was going to do to you or she would have stopped him, and I believe her."

"I'm not so sure you should," House disagreed. "Based on everything she's done in the past couple of years."

"What?" Stacey asked, taken aback by House's assertion.

"I don't think I want to get into it," House said.

"Greg," Stacy cajoled, "You can't make a statement like that and then not tell me."

Ann interjected, "Would it be easier if I told her?"

"Yeah, go ahead," House consented.

"When Doctor Cuddy got her daughter, she went on maternity leave. She put Doctor Cameron in charge. She then decided that Doctor Cameron wasn't supervising Greg to her satisfaction, so, she came back early. For some reason, she resented Greg for this, and put up signs on all the elevators that they were out of order, making Greg walk four flights up to his office. She stole his cane at one point. And she used a tripwire to trip him in his office. When Greg got back from the mental hospital, he still had some unresolved feelings for her, so he tried to see if there was a chance for them to have a relationship. She hid the fact that she was dating Lucas. He felt like an idiot when he found out. He had had a very personal delusion about her, and she told Lucas about it! Technically, since she wasn't his doctor, I guess it didn't violate HIPPA, but she probably violated confidentiality rules as his employer. In any case, it was a shitty thing to do to a so-called friend. She invited him to Thanksgiving and told him it was at her sister's house, which is a three-hour drive from Princeton. When he got there, he found out that everyone was at her house here, and the house sitter said she was told to offer him a turkey sandwich. Do you have any idea how much his leg hurts when he's in a car for six hours, especially then, when he had virtually no pain meds? She tried to buy a condo with Lucas and involved one of Wilson's ex-wives as the realtor, just so Wilson would tell Greg and she could rub his face in it. Lucas decided to retaliate after Wilson bought the condo himself, so he loosened the grab bars that Greg used to get into the bathtub, and Greg cut his face, and he was damn lucky nothing worse happened. Lucas also tripped the sprinklers and flooded the loft and ruined a lot of Greg's stuff. To top it all off, he tripped Greg right in the hospital cafeteria. And she did nothing about it. And then after Greg and I got together, she was nothing but a bitch to us. And all of this was before the lawsuit, and before Lucas decided to sic my former rapists on me and attack us."

Stacy's face wore an expression of shock. "I . . . I . . . had no idea . . . "

"I was guessing you didn't," Ann responded. "At least now you can understand why they are no longer friends and he's not inclined to be 'supportive.' "

"Listen, I'm sorry to have bothered you," Stacy said, rising from her chair to head toward the front door. "I should probably be going. I have a long drive home."

"Thanks for letting me know what's going on with her," House stated. "At least now I'll know to keep my head down."

"Okay," Stacy said as she fished for her keys and headed out the door. "See you."

"Bye," House acknowledged.

They watched through the front window as she drove away.

"So, that's Stacy, huh?" Ann asked rhetorically.

"Yep," House said.

"Hmm," Ann remarked.

"What are you thinking?" House asked warily. "It's never fun to meet the ex."

Ann already knew about Stacy. House had told her everything. Well, maybe not every moment in the five years they had lived together, or every second of the months they dealt with each other after Stacy returned and House cured her husband, but certainly all the highlights and even some details. Some details about how House _felt_, even.

"Well, it's good to be able to put a face to the name," Ann remained vague.

"That's it?"

"There isn't much else to say. She's no longer a part of your life, as evidenced by what she came here to ask you."

"Yeah. It was like she was in a time warp. Like nothing had happened in the last six years."

"Kind of narcissistic."

"What do you mean?"

"Like nothing would happen in your life unless she was there. Like your life was put on hold because she wasn't in it."

"Interesting point."

"Although, that isn't good news for me."

"How so?"

"Well, you loved her and you thought you wanted a relationship with Doctor Cuddy, which means the significant women in your life have been very self-centered. That doesn't say anything good about me."

"I guess that's one interpretation, even if it is the wrong one."

"What's the right one?"

"That it took me long enough, but I finally wised up and got together with the right woman."

"I like that better."

"Thought you would. Now, can I enjoy the effects of all that estrogen coursing through your veins?" House asked as he began kissing Ann's neck.

"Let's go to bed."

House followed his large and largely pregnant wife down the hall, both of them shedding clothes as they went. By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both naked. Ann lowered herself on the bed as House looked at her. He saw her big belly, her huge tits and he felt underneath her to fondle her generous bottom. If you had told House a year ago how much he would be turned on by the ample flesh before him, he would have said you were crazy. But now, he just couldn't get enough of touching his wife's sizable, curvy body. It was a craving he never knew he had, and its fulfillment was pure physical and emotional indulgence.

"God, you are so beautiful," House murmured as he continued to touch her. He lowered himself on the bed beside her.

A flash of memory brought back Lucas's attack. House knew he couldn't let anything happen to Ann or the baby. After Lucas had kicked and hit him he'd been operating on sheer instinct and adrenaline when he went after him with his cane. He'd been yelling so loudly, he found his throat hurt later, along with everything else. He did feel some satisfaction watching Lucas run away, he had to admit.

That night, he was bruised and ugly and hurting. Ann caressed him tenderly and told him how strong and brave he was and how protected she felt. He knew it was a lame stereotype, but he could feel himself get hard at just the memory, as he had that night.

Unfortunately, his mind drifted to what Ann had told Stacy tonight. At the time, it was an incident here or there, mostly, but when he heard about it in the aggregate, it was pretty awful. How had he gotten to the point that he would let someone do all that to him? And, at the time it happened, he actually thought he deserved at least some of it. How pathetic was that? House could feel his wood disappearing.

Apparently, so could Ann. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," House replied, he'd stopped touching her and was pulling away. Before he managed to do it, he found Ann's arms around him. She gently pulled his head toward her and held him against her chest. She was gently stroking his face.

"Did I embarrass you in front of your ex, telling her all that stuff that Doctor Cuddy and Lucas did?"

"She needed to know."

"Still, thinking about it like that is painful."

"And humiliating."

"No, it isn't. Well, maybe for them, but _not_ for you."

"But, I let that stuff happen to me. I didn't fight back."

"You're an addict, who also happened to be either spiraling into or coming out of mental illness. The fact that they took advantage of you when you were so vulnerable says more about what horrible people they are than anything about you."

"I shouldn't have let them do that to me."

"Don't you get it? You weren't well, and they knew that and used it. It would be like a wealthy family coming in to the hospital with a child who had cancer and Doctor Cuddy refusing to treat that child until the family donated a lot of money. It's called exploitation."

"But, I let myself get exploited. Other people don't allow that."

"You mean the people who work at shitty jobs where their bosses abuse them because they need the money? Or the people who stay in painful relationships because they don't want to be alone? Welcome to the human race, Greg."

"Why do they, why did I, put up with it?"

"Because someone, somewhere, convinced them that's all they were going to get, that's all they were worthy of getting. And they live their whole lives believing that."

"Well, I lived damn near my whole life believing it."

"But, you didn't. You got help and you worked very hard, and you realized you deserved better. You're past it now, Greg. You're able to choose to be happy."

House wanted to say something to her. Something about what she had said and done in the past year and a half to help him, to let him see that he did deserve not to be hurt, that he did deserve to be respected. It was his efforts, yes, but also hers. It was the way she defended him, and believed he could make the right choices for himself. It was even the way she saw him – realistically acknowledging his problems, but, underneath it, as a whole, strong person, worthy of being loved.

But, he couldn't. The lump in his throat was growing so big, there was no way to talk around it.

He lifted his head and looked in her eyes.

"My beautiful, courageous man. And not just because you made Lucas run away like a girl." They both smiled slightly.

"You're brave here," she said, her hand resting lightly on his chest. "You have the heart of a lion."

"Thank you," House managed to croak out. "For everything."

Their lovemaking that night was intense, passionate, tender and comforting all at the same time. They fell asleep in deep contentment.

* * *

A/N: There are a few extra OCs in this chapter, which I hope don't dilute the focus of the story. I felt so badly for House after last week's episode, I just couldn't write a scene where we saw him get beaten up. (Writing violence isn't my strong suite, in any case.) So, we find out about it indirectly, and deal with the aftermath instead.

And thanks to everyone who has put this story on alerts and favorites. I hope it's made what has been a bad season (IMO) a little bit easier to take.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs, etc.

Ann continued to work with the designer and the interior decorator. They wanted to have as much of the house planned out as possible before the baby was born.

Danielle helped her set up a temporary nursery in the instrument room, with a crib and a changing table and supplies. The rest of the baby stuff wound up in the living room, which was starting to look a little crowded.

House made the appropriate snarling noises about keeping "the kid away from my piano," which actually made Ann smile as she pictured House holding the baby in his lap while he played some totally age-inappropriate blues. When she shared that with House, he told her to dream on, but he had also imagined pretty much the same thing in his mind's eye, not that he would admit it.

November came and House was thinking about what to do for Ann's birthday. As much as they'd both enjoyed what he had done last year, he didn't want to repeat himself. He thought maybe an intimate dinner for two at a very nice restaurant would be a good idea, since they wouldn't be doing that without significant logistical support - a phalanx of babysitters and months of planning - after the baby was born.

Unfortunately, House's job made the decision for them. He caught a case the first week of November that kept him at the hospital for sixteen hours or more a day. It didn't help matters that his patient was an infant.

From a purely medical standpoint, it was a tough case because infant physiology was different than adult physiology. That meant there were very few standards when it came to diagnostic tests, drug uses, or even surgery.

There was also the issue of dealing with the infant's parents. Patients' families were never easy to take, but with a young child, it was even worse – they were way too emotional, making House wonder if any parents were capable of rational thought when it came to a baby.

And, of course, House had his own emotional reasons to need a good outcome. He wanted to remain aloof and detached, but there was simply no way for him not to see himself in the father of the child. He also didn't want to be reminded of all the things that could go wrong with a baby's health, even though it was staring him right in the face.

As the case progressed, and the child became sicker, House became more and more obsessed. He started spending nights at the hospital, not even making it home to sleep.

Finally, after almost two weeks, House and his team solved the case. By the time that they were sure the treatment was working, it was almost mid-morning. House was looking forward to finally getting home and seeing Ann. He hadn't even had the chance to call her for at least a couple of days. He had texted her last night, or was it the night before? He had been there for so long and he was so tired, the days were running together in his mind.

House was putting the last of his things in his backpack when his pager went off. He was inclined to ignore it and just go home, but, the way the last two weeks had gone, he was afraid they'd been wrong and something was happening to his patient yet again. So, he checked it and it was Chase.

"Is the sick baby from hell crashing again?" House asked as Chase picked up House's call on his cell.

"What, um, no . . . " Chase responded. He sounded distracted and possibly even flustered. "I'm down in the ER – "

"Your energy and ambition in finding a new case is admirable and nauseating at the same time. I'm getting the hell home before I collapse."

House heard some noise and shouting in the background, typical for the ER. Must be another pile-up on the highway, he thought to himself.

"House!" Chase's voice was so loud House had to move the phone away from his ear. "They brought in Ann, get down here now!"

Suddenly, House's crushing fatigue disappeared, replaced by an adrenaline surge. He almost flew across his office, and he was in the elevator and down to the first floor in less than five minutes.

He limped-ran across the clinic, practically bouncing with his lopsided gait. Chase met him at the ER desk.

"What the hell's going on?" he yelled

"Danielle called Ann this morning before work," Chase answered in as normal a voice level and tone as he could manage. The adrenaline was surging through him, too, but he knew he had to at least look calm, or it would make House even more upset, which would just make the situation worse. "When she didn't answer, Danielle went over there. She found Ann lying on the floor of the bathroom, unconscious. When the ambulance got there, her blood pressure was 175 over 115."

"Preeclampsia," House stated to no one in particular. "Son of a bitch. Where is she?"

"They just took her to be prepped for an emergency c-section."

"Why did you drag me all the way down here when the OR is on the second floor, you moron?"

"Just take it easy." Chase attempted to keep House from exploding, "Let's go up to the observation room, okay?"

By the time House and Chase got there, they had just started the anesthesia. According to the monitor, Ann's blood pressure was slightly lower, but it was still dangerously high.

The draping was set, Ann's abdomen was sterilized, and the OB/GYN began to cut her.

House wanted to watch closely what was going on, and, in order to do that, he needed to stand next to the window. Unfortunately, between the fatigue and the extreme stress, his body just didn't want to accommodate him.

Suddenly, his leg began to give out. It didn't help that something was making him nauseous. As a doctor, seeing someone cut open was nothing that should have made him sick. So, it had to be the adrenaline, right?

Chase steered him to a bench.

"Are you okay?" Chase questioned.

"Fan-damn-tastic," House replied, exercising every sarcasm muscle he had. "Do you always ask such stupid – "

House stopped as he saw the OB/GYN lift the baby out of Ann's body. He and Chase waited while the doctor attempted to get him to cry.

After what seem like an eternity, but was actually only a couple of minutes, the baby's cries filled the operating room.

"Well he's got a good set of lungs on him," Chase noted. "Pretty obvious it's your kid."

Chase watched as they took the baby and cleaned him up. He was measured and weighed and wrapped up. He heard the Apgar score announced. It was a nine, which was excellent, considering the circumstances.

House wasn't looking at the baby. He was watching the monitors to see what would happen to Ann's blood pressure. It slowly started to come down.

It stopped at 150 over 98, which was still too high, but at least out of the danger zone as far as strokes were concerned. House felt one of the dozen or so knots in his stomach unclench ever so slightly.

Over the next half-hour, the doctors were able to get Ann stitched up and closed with relative ease. House had been afraid she might bleed excessively and then he'd need to decide whether to consent to a hysterectomy. He'd have done it to save her life, but he thought Ann might want another child, and he was just grateful he didn't have to make that decision for her. The situation was bad, but not as bad as it could have been.

"They're going to be wheeling her into recovery now," Chase remarked, his comments not necessarily addressed to anyone in particular. "And it looks like they're taking the baby to maternity."

As quickly as the relief had washed over House when Ann's blood pressure dropped and she didn't bleed excessively, a wave of regret from Chase's announcement hit him. They hadn't planned that the baby's birth would be a surgical procedure – cold and clinical - like removing a tumor.

Ann wanted, and, if he admitted to himself, he did, too, to share in the birth of their child. He had no romantic illusions that it would be beautiful and pain-free – he had imagined Ann sweaty and exhausted and in agony, cursing him out every step of the way. But he also imagined them feeling the relief from it being over and, despite their fatigue, spending some time, even just a few moments, looking at and holding their child.

Well, that hadn't happened. And House couldn't afford to dwell on his disappointment right now.

"She's going to be in recovery for a while," Chase noted. "Do you want to go to see the baby?"

"No," was House's terse reply.

Chase knew House well enough after all these years not to expect he was going to be overflowing with feelings. But, he also knew that merely because House wasn't showing it, that didn't mean he had no emotions. All Chase had to do was look at House to know there was so much churning just under the surface. Not that House would appreciate Chase acknowledging that.

So, they sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Aren't you going to run out and tell your fiancée what's going on?" House asked caustically.

"The OB/GYN said he'd talk to her. I just want to sit here for a while." Chase hoped that making it about what he wanted rather than what House needed would allow House to let him stay. Not that Chase had any expectation that his presence would do any good at all.

Chase's pager went off. He got up and called, using the phone on the wall of the room.

"Yes," he said, pausing as he was given more information. "Uh-huh," he mumbled as he failed to suppress a frown that passed quickly across his face.

Of course, House saw it. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Chase lied. "Ann's out of recovery. She's going to room 612."

"Let's go," House commanded, seeming to forget Chase's worried expression.

Chase didn't tell House what made him frown. Apparently, Ann was out of anesthesia, but she hadn't woken up. All indications were that she was in a coma.

As House sat at her beside later, he knew there was no diagnostic puzzle. The coma was a result of the preeclampsia. So, that meant there was nothing to occupy his mind, except worry and the uncertainty of when Ann would wake up.

Hell, _if_ she would wake up. In the hours that followed, he kept picturing himself visiting her in the basement, her bed adjacent to coma guy's, eating lunch with her every day and talking to her all the while knowing she wouldn't ever hear him again.

And what about their son? House pictured him dutifully visiting his mother every Saturday, from an infant to an active toddler, to a curious pre-schooler, to a shy kid in elementary school, to a reluctant middle-schooler, to an indifferent teenager. He imagined all the things David would say to her – he'd talk about his early milestones, his report cards, his athletic accomplishments, getting his driver's license, going to the prom, getting into the college he wanted, even bringing his fiancé to meet her.

All that to a mother who couldn't tell him how smart or strong he was, how proud she was of him, how much she liked this woman he brought to meet her. It was one of the most painful things House could imagine.

He decided he couldn't do it. But, wouldn't David be curious about his mother? House wouldn't shield him or lie to him about it, either. He knew how damaging it was for a child to live a lie about one of his parents.

So, there was only one solution. He didn't want to face it. Like an idiot, he'd actually allowed himself to anticipate the arrival of this child. He'd let himself wonder what he would be like. He was curious to see how he would grow, what parts of the kid would be like Ann and what parts would be like himself. But, if he didn't want to screw this child up completely, House would have to give him up.

Since House had never pictured himself as a father, he was taken aback by how much this idea hurt him. But, this wasn't about his pain. This was about his kid having the chance at a normal life, with a mother who was not among the living dead, and a father who wasn't useless cripple and who didn't have an abuser as his only example of how to be a parent.

At that moment, House decided he wasn't going to see the baby. Ann needed him more, and it was better if he didn't have the chance to become attached to his son. It would make it easier to give him up.

The fact that House loved the idea of him even before he was conceived, all the time he spent with Ann while she was pregnant, and the reality of seeing him, however briefly, in the OR, were all things he'd just have to put out of his mind. He'd come so close to being happy, only to have it snatched away again. House was so tired and it hurt so much. To _move_. To _breathe_. And he simply didn't know how he could go on.

That night, he fell asleep in the chair in her room, physically and emotionally exhausted.

* * *

House grunted as he felt someone shake his shoulder. For a moment, he imagined he was back in Mayfield, still detoxing, in terrible pain and resenting whoever wouldn't let him get just a little bit of escape through sleep.

He opened his eyes and saw Wilson, of all people.

"What the hell?" House mumbled. He fell silent when he saw Wilson's eyes. There was no guile or manipulation. There was just compassion. And friendship.

Even though their relationship had never been about touching, Wilson put his hands on either side of House's face. He held him there for a moment, and then he pulled House's head toward him, turning him so his cheek rested against Wilson's shoulder. Wilson's hand rested against House's other cheek. Wilson brought his head down and placed the side of his face against the nape of House's neck

To his own astonishment, instead of pushing Wilson away, House found himself grasping the arm that embraced him with both of his hands. They stayed like that for a while.

House finally pulled away.

"Are you sure you want to be seen doing this?" House questioned.

"I don't care who sees me," Wilson responded. He sounded sincere to House.

"Even Sam?"

"Screw Sam."

"I'd rather not."

"You're right; she's a lousy lay."

"Are you splitting up with her?"

"It's all over but the shouting."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Maybe. But I think it might also have something to do with my best friend going through hell and my wanting to be there for him. Especially since I've been such a crappy friend for so long."

"True."

"Do we have the chance to fix this?"

"I'm not sure I have the energy for that right now."

"I know. Just let me be here, okay?"

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"She's going to wake up, you know."

"You have no basis for making that assertion."

"Just that you deserve to be happy, for once."

"It's not about deserving. Besides, the way she feels about you . . . well, let's just say if she does wake up, it's not going to be easy for you."

"When."

"What?"

"_When_ she wakes up. And I'll take my chances."

"Hey, since she's just in this for the money, she probably won't be around long, you know, after she recovers. So, it shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Sorry about that. I shouldn't have said that. I was worried about the hospital."

"You mean you were pissed about having to cut your budget."

"I had to lay off three people, House, and we were stretched too thin as it was."

There was another break in the conversation.

"Does she really hate me?"

"I think it's more that she thinks you'll exploit me.

"Seriously? She thinks _I'll_ exploit _you_? After all the times I've taken care of you?"

"She'd say it was more like enabling me."

"And what would you say?"

"I don't know. All I know is you never offered to risk your life for my girlfriend. And I never acted like you owed it to me."

"I never said you owed me that!"

"No, you just behaved as though you did. And you never said you appreciated it. It was like you expected it from me. Or like it meant nothing to you."

There was another pause in the conversation as Wilson processed what House said. At the time it happened, he'd been so distraught over what was happening to Amber, he hadn't really thought about House's feelings. And afterward, he been so grief-stricken, he hadn't really considered the impact on House of what he'd asked. Then, they'd been estranged and he'd tried to get on with his life without House. When he returned and they'd become friends again, things were so fragile, Wilson didn't dare bring it up.

Wilson supposed he could have said something when House discovered he was talking to Amber after House got back from Mayfield, but Wilson was really embarrassed by that. Plus, he thought it would be more helpful for House to try to use the technique himself in his own healing process. Wilson didn't realize he was smiling when he remembered House calling out to him from the other room in the apartment and telling him it was stupid.

"What's so funny?" House asked.

"Nothing," Wilson replied. "Just remembering you being you, that's all."

"O-_kay_."

"House, I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much I appreciated what you did for Amber."

"Didn't do any good."

"That's not really the point, is it? You were willing to risk your life and your brain, the thing you value most, just because I asked you to. That's such a huge thing. It was almost too big. I thought I could never tell you how much it meant to me. I still don't think I can."

"You took me in after Mayfield, and I did everything I could to mess with you."

"You were trying to help me move on, in your own, um, unique way."

"I guess. And then you forced me out."

"Turns out, that was pretty stupid."

"Uh-huh."

"Sorry about your guitar."

"I bought a new one."

"It isn't the same, I know. That guitar had a lot of good memories for you."

"And a few bad ones, too."

"Still . . . "

"I've got more important things to worry about right now, Wilson."

Wilson stayed with House for the rest of the day. House asked about Wilson's appointments with his patients, but Wilson reminded him it was a Saturday. Sam called, but Wilson told her that if she couldn't deal with the idea of his being with his BFF in a time of crisis, well, that was her problem, not his.

House told Wilson she probably wouldn't be there when he got back to the condo, and Wilson told House there were worse things.

"I'm glad that you're here," House said quietly at one point during the day.

"No problem," Wilson responded.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you come to see me when I was here last spring?"

"I sent you something."

"Some lame teddy bear thing. With a stupid balloon."

"On the note I told you I was around if you needed me."

"Uh-huh."

"So, why didn't you contact me?"

"I thought you were being a manipulative bastard. I thought you wanted me to cave first."

"It wasn't about that."

"If you say so. So, why didn't you come to see me?"

"I guess I was being a coward. I thought you were mad at me."

"Not really. I was really more pissed at Cuddy than anything else. And Ann was mad enough at her for both of us, and then some."

"This woman has quite the temper, doesn't she?"

"It's more like righteous indignation."

"Still, very strong emotions."

"Yes, I admit she's incredibly hot. Or she will be, if she ever wakes up again."

"I already told you she will."

"Based on no evidence whatsoever."

"I've seen too many people have spontaneous remissions not to recognize that some things simply can't be explained."

"Forgive those of us in the evidence-based universe for not rushing to embrace that."

Wilson offered to stay the night, but House sent him home.

A reclining chair had been brought in from the OB/GYN lounge for House to sleep in. It wasn't ideal, but it was certainly better than trying to sleep in the straight chair, like he had the previous night.

* * *

House woke up early on Sunday morning. Chase was in the room, charting.

"I saw Wilson here yesterday," Chase noted tentatively.

"Yeah," House acknowledged.

"So, you're BFFs again?"

"Not yet, but I think we'll get there eventually."

"Time for me to step back, I guess."

"Don't be a moron."

"What?"

"I never asked you to 'step back,' or whatever idiot thing you called it."

"You can't have two BFFs."

"Says who?"

"I think it's in the handbook."

"Yeah, and I'm _so_ about following the rules."

"So, we're still okay, then?"

"Uh-huh. I think I'm going to need all the help I can get. How is she?"

"Pretty much the same."

"I thought so."

He spent Sunday at her bedside.

House thought he'd have to do this all by himself. Wilson had surprised him, and so had Chase. Danielle was there, too, of course. Tom was going to be down on Tuesday afternoon, and Bob said he'd be there by Thursday, or Friday at the latest. And House had taken calls from Nolan, Shankar, and Ginsberg.

It also seemed like a lot of the nursing staff had stopped by at one point or another. Everyone had talked to Ann and told her she had to wake up.

Of course, it had no effect on her, which didn't surprise House in the least. At this point, there was nothing for anyone to do but wait.


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

The activity picked up in the hospital on Monday morning, as expected. House watched it through the glass walls of Ann's room from his spot next to her bed.

The team was hesitant to take on another case, since House told them he was otherwise occupied and he wouldn't be able to help them.

Everyone but Chase thought House was just his usual surly, lazy self. Foreman even said, not in House's presence, of course, that House was just taking advantage of the situation to avoid doing work.

Chase was about to argue with Foreman, when he realized House would probably want the team to think that. It would be better in House's eyes to let the team believe he was lazy rather than so messed up about the situation that he couldn't function.

So, Chase let it go and turned his attention to being part of the group of doctors that was taking care of Ann. The rest of the team spent their time working off their clinic hours.

It was late Monday night. There was still no change. Chase was in the room recording vitals when Danielle entered.

"Greg," Danielle said tentatively, pulling House's attention away from Ann for a moment. She stood there, holding something to her chest.

"The first day, I kept thinking she would wake up," Danielle's voice was thick. "And the second day, too. Well, it's end of the fourth day, and . . . Annie gave this to me to give to you if, um, when, damn, just watch it, okay?"

She quickly handed House an unmarked DVD. She practically stumbled out of the room.

Chase had finished charting.

"Do you know what's on this?" House asked him.

"No," Chase replied. "But you should look at it."

"I can't leave her."

"Nothing is going to happen here in the next few minutes. If it does, I'll page you."

"This is probably nothing important," House stated, indicating the DVD.

"You don't know that," Chase responded. "Go."

House pulled himself slowly away from the bed. He was so tired, and he'd been neglecting his meds, and boy, did his leg let him know it. It took him a couple of minutes just to steady himself.

Chase knew enough not to ask if House needed help. He watched him limp slowly out of the room and head down the hall. Chase waited until House got on the elevator and the doors closed.

He stood quietly at the foot of Ann's bed. He lowered his head and made the sign of the cross.

"Heavenly Father," he intoned softly. "Protect and watch over your daughter, Ann. We know your ways are a mystery, but surely you wouldn't take a mother away from her baby, or a loving wife away from a husband who needs her so desperately. In the eons and vastness that you contemplate, we know a single human life is but the passing of a mote of dust. But, dear Father, this particular life matters so very much. Please let her come back to us. Amen."

Chase crossed himself again.

He left the room and spoke to the nurse on duty, telling her he'd be away for a few minutes, and to page him if anything happened. He found Danielle in the lounge, sitting on one of the couches. He lowered himself next to her and held her as she sobbed.

House laboriously and painfully made his way to his office on the fourth floor. It was midnight, and since there were only offices on this floor, it was deserted. Still, House didn't know what was on this DVD, and he didn't want to take any chances that anyone else would see it, or, even more importantly, see him reacting to it.

So, he locked both doors and lowered the blinds. He fired up the TV and the DVD player, and loaded the disk. He settled into his eames chair and put his legs up on the ottoman. The thermostats on the office floors were programmed to lower the heat at night, and he noticed he was cold. He grabbed his coat and pulled it over him as the DVD came on.

Ann was sitting on a leather couch. There were bookshelves behind her lined with leather bound books. It took House a moment, but he recognized that it was the conference room in the law office in Trenton where they'd signed the settlement paperwork. God, was this her will? House swallowed down his fear and anxiety as she started to speak

"This is probably stupid, but all I can think about is that old Star trek episode where Spock and McCoy pull out that video of Kirk and he says, 'If you're looking at this, I must be dead.' Hopefully, I'm not dead, just seriously ill. Not that that's a good thing, but, anyway . . . "

Ann looked away from the camera for a moment, pondering something. House had the chance to really look at her. She didn't look seriously ill then, but, with hindsight, it was noticeable that there was something wrong. He berated himself silently for not seeing it. It was almost like Ann was reading his thoughts.

"First of all, whatever has happened, don't blame yourself. If I'm sick or I died from some illness, don't say that you should have seen it, or you neglected me or any other crap. You went down that path with that Amber woman and look where it got you – nowhere good. And I'm sure whatever happened was a series of things you couldn't possibly be responsible for, so please, if you love me, you'll let it go. Even if you need therapy to move on, PLEASE let it go."

_Well_, House thought, _she really does know me. Better than anyone else ever has or ever will_. He felt an awful, sickening feeling of loss surging through him. _She's not gone yet, dammit_, he told himself, _stay focused_.

"Other than my compulsive need to control things, possibly even from the grave," Ann smiled despite the grimness of the message, and House felt his lips quirk up a little, too, "I wanted to talk to you about David. If what took me also took him, then you don't need to look at the rest of this, other than knowing that I loved you with all my heart, and that David would have adored you, too."

House sighed and felt a heavy, painful feeling in his chest. In a way, if they were both gone, things would almost be easier. He could go back to his miserable old life and most likely drink himself to death, but at least everything would be finished. God, how awful was it to think that? He heard John's voice in his head, calling him a coward.

"Since you're still watching, I'm going to assume something's happened to me and David is okay. If that's the case, I need you to know a few things. First of all, I'm guessing you're feeling a little overwhelmed. Well, maybe a lot. The thought of being a single parent is pretty scary, even under the best of circumstances. And you're not facing the best of circumstances. I know that you're thinking that there is no way a former abused kid can raise a child in a healthy environment by himself. I want you to remember three things. First of all, you will never abuse David. Oh, I know what the studies say, but you are not a statistic. You are Gregory House – successful, world famous, and a loving husband and father, too. I know that idea doesn't completely match your self-image, but it's the truth, so accept it."

House smiled slightly at Ann's insistence. She knew he couldn't just change his view of himself like that, so she was trying to make him see what she saw. _Okay, Annie, point made_, he acknowledged silently.

"Second, I'm going to guess that you are considering giving up David to foster care or adoption because you just can't see how you are going to deal with everything. You don't have to. You are okay financially. The settlement money is enough for you and David to live on, if you're careful, and I know you can be extremely, um, careful. Just let the kid eat something besides peanut butter sandwiches every once and a while, okay?"

_Yeah, yeah_, House thought. _It's fine that money isn't a huge problem, but what about everything else? How am I supposed to take care of a kid all by myself and deal with what's happening to you?_

"Third, and most important, so please listen to me carefully - you are NOT alone. And I don't mean that you have the money to hire a nanny. And she better not be some hot young foreign exchange student that, in your grief, you start having a raging affair with, especially if I'm not dead. Hell, even if I am, I'll come back and haunt you, so just don't do it."

Again, House couldn't help but smile at Ann's attempts to control things even from what could be beyond the grave. _No worries about affairs, Annie. You're the only one I could ever really love,_ he thought_._

"Anyway, setting that aside, you will have help. Dani loved David when he was an embryo and she'll love him even more now that he's born. She and Robert will be there for you. And so will Tom and Sharon, and Bob and Deidre. They love me and David, and they love you, too. They'll help you as long as you need them."

"So, if you are wondering what I wanted you to do, that's it. I want you to keep and raise David, and know that even if I'm gone, a big part of me is still with you. I don't know if David will have my nose or my ears or any part of my personality, but he'll have _something_ of me. And you'll feel my love for you every time he laughs or cries. And I know you'll adore him, almost enough for both of us. Be his father. He needs you."

The screen faded to black. House sat for a long time, pain enveloping him in wave after wave. _Please wake up, Annie_, was the only thought in his mind as he fell asleep, beyond exhausted.

* * *

House became aware of his beeper going off. He roused himself and looked at it. "ROOM 612, STAT," was all it said. House practically jumped up from the chair, ignoring the stiffness and pain in his leg. He unlocked the door as quickly as his hands would allow, he lurched out of his office and headed toward the elevators.

He had no time to think about anything as the elevator swiftly, for once, made it up two floors. He went to the right and found Ann's room. He dreaded what was awaiting him.

The first thing he saw was Chase's back. He was at the foot of the bed, charting something_. God, is it the time of death?_ House thought_. I wasn't even here when it happened. Not that it would have made any difference._

Chase turned to face him, still blocking House's view of the bed. House tried to read Chase's expression, but his brain just wasn't working.

"I'll leave you alone," Chase said softly, replacing the chart and getting out of the room so fast House didn't even have the chance to say one word to him.

House hadn't realized he'd been looking down at the floor. He slowly raised his eyes to find . . . Ann looking back at him. "Hey baby," she said in a weak, raspy voice.

The few people who had seen House in the corridor heading toward the room early that morning thought he had been moving fast, but it was at a snail's pace compared to the way he bolted across the room.

He knew he should be careful of all her lines, not to mention her stitches from the c-section, but he couldn't help himself. He sat down on the bed and slid his arms around her, holding her as close to him as he could, pressing the side of his face into hers.

After a few moments, he found himself covering her face with kisses. He heard a pained sigh. House stopped, pulled back and looked at her. "Did I hurt you?"

She tried to reach up with the hand that didn't have the pulse ox monitor on it, but she couldn't. Her arms were just too weak.

"No," Ann replied in a soft voice, "You didn't. I want to hold you so much."

"It's okay. You'll be able to again. Although you'll have to control yourself and not jump my bones for the next six weeks, okay?"

"I don't know how I'll do that, but I'll manage somehow." Ann said weakly. "David . . . "

"Is healthy," House responded. He was just about to page someone to bring the baby when the door came open.

"Doctor Chase told me you're allowed a visitor," the nurse stated with a grin as she wheeled in the bassinet. House was so focused on Ann's reaction that he didn't even think to roll his eyes at the nurse's sappy statement.

"He's just been changed and fed, so he should sleep for a while," she informed then as she left the room.

"Oh, Greg," was all Ann could manage to say as the tears began sliding down her cheeks. She lifted her arms to reach out to the baby and they shook slightly before they fell back to the bed. "I can't even hold him."

House's mind went back to the night a year ago when he had felt so depressed about that young patient he had lost. His arms were shaking so badly he couldn't eat the soup Ann had made. She helped him by feeding him. He thought for a second.

"If you don't mind some pain, I think we can do something."

"Please."

House hoped she'd been given a decent dose of meds as he began. Well, if she hadn't, she'd very likely need them after this.

House pulled the bassinet as close to the left side of the bed as he could, leaving just a little space in-between.

He grabbed a pillow and put it against her abdomen. She winced slightly as he pulled her forward on the bed. He asked if she could stay leaning forward for a minute. She said yes.

House sat down on the left side of the bed. He moved his good leg around the back of Ann and pulled up his right leg, so that Ann was sitting between his legs. He reached for the bassinet and got it right next to the bed. He pulled Ann's back to rest against his chest. He reached again and carefully lifted the baby out of the basinet. He was holding David in his arms, with Ann in-between them. House looked at the baby over Ann's shoulder and then looked at her face.

She was just staring at David. Her face had the most rapturous expression House had ever seen.

All the movement must have disturbed his sleep. The baby shifted and opened his eyes.

"Hi, David," Ann said softly. "I'm your mom. I'm sorry I wasn't around for your first few days, but I plan to make up for it. I'll be a huge part of your life, for at least the next eighteen years, whether you like it or not."

The baby stared at her for several seconds with big blue eyes. Then he closed them again.

Ann and House just watched him sleeping for a while.

"Can you lift him up closer to my face?" Ann asked.

House wasn't sure what Ann wanted to do - most likely get a better look - so he obliged.

Ann bent down slightly and gave the baby a kiss on his forehead. She proceeded to tenderly kiss his nose, his cheeks. his chin and even his neck. She fell back against House's chest. He could tell that even that slight an exertion had made her tired.

He didn't want her falling asleep in that position because he knew his leg would eventually protest even more, so he tried to maneuver the baby to the bassinet and get up himself. When that didn't work, he decided to get some help.

By the time the nurse came, got the baby in the bassinet, helped House move from behind Ann and got Ann settled back in, she was asleep. House was also exhausted, but it had been almost four days since he'd done anything more than splash water in his face, so he went to his office, grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the hospital showers.

* * *

Cuddy was in early that day. After all the rushing around for most of her career, she didn't need to do it any more. It kind of figured. Just as she lost her man and her child, the board had decided to "lessen her responsibilities." So, here she was, back to having no private life, and no work that consumed her, either.

She had spent the last month making some changes. Living at her house tripping over Rachel's toys was simply too painful. And she sure as hell didn't want any reminders of Lucas. So, she'd put her house on the market and called in one of those companies that disposed of everything.

No, her things hadn't been in the state that they were used to dealing with. After all, she wasn't some elderly woman, refusing to leave her home and pathetically hanging on to every piece of junk she had accumulated over a lifetime. No, she just wanted to get rid of literally everything from her life until now.

She had moved to a condo. Not the beautiful loft she'd wanted when she'd been with Lucas, but a small place – one bedroom, with a small living room and an even smaller kitchen. It came furnished, which was just as well. It was less of a hassle for her, even though she would have had the time to decorate it. It was just more cold and impersonal this way. She didn't have to think about or feel anything, which was just the way she liked things these days. Neat and sterile. Just like her life.

Cuddy was still the professional, though. Too many years of putting her job before everything else had made her that way. So, early that morning, she had been on the sixth floor visiting a patient who was the daughter of a major donor. She spent a few minutes playing doctor, making a show of reviewing her chart and pretending she had some input in her treatment. It impressed the patients and made them or their families more likely to give money if they were personally visited and "examined" by one of the _deans_ of medicine.

Cuddy still hadn't really come to terms with that. The board thought she should be grateful that they had kept her on in any capacity that had any significant responsibilities at all. But, the diminishment of her job still galled her. Especially when she had been told that her focus should be bringing back some of the money she lost the hospital. That part was fair enough, she supposed.

But when one of the board members, with no protest from any of the others, had said her "assets" should be used to get as much money as possible through the door as fast as she could, she couldn't help but be insulted and humiliated. They almost told her explicitly to prostitute herself. And it wasn't like she could have told them to go to hell. With her history, there was no way any other hospital would hire her. What she'd always said about House had, ironically enough, come true for her.

So, as she passed along the corridor on the sixth floor, she wasn't exactly happy. She walked along, glancing into the glass-walled patient rooms when she saw it, or, rather, _him_. He was resting against the back of the bed with that woman, who was in-between his legs. And he was holding their baby.

Cuddy stared at the three of them for a while. House kept looking from the baby to that woman. He would rest his chin on her shoulder, and then turn towards her, sometimes kissing her face or her neck or her ear, sometimes just staring at her. She asked House something. House lifted the baby up towards her face and she kissed it multiple times, as House looked on adoringly.

Suddenly, Cuddy felt the need to run into one of the bathrooms. She was relieved it was empty. She headed quickly to one of the stalls, locked it and proceeded to empty what seemed like the entire contents of her stomach.

She rested briefly, sitting on the floor of the stall. The force of her vomiting had caused her eyes to leak, and once that started, she couldn't stop. All the pain and loss of the last few months came pouring out of her. She was sobbing violently.

Sure, she admitted to herself between sobs, she'd made a few bad choices over the last couple of years. But, hadn't her whole life before that been exemplary? She'd been a good girl, done what he parents wanted her to do, been an excellent student, and had a very successful career. Just a couple of mistakes and she'd lost it all - her private life was empty and her career was in shambles. What had she done to deserve all this pain? Nothing except those poor choices.

House, on the other hand, had spent years being an SOB and a screw-up. He'd pushed away anyone who ever cared about him, had been drug-addicted and mentally ill, and a sarcastic jerk on top of it. And yet, after a lifetime of doing the wrong thing, he had somehow been rewarded. With a loving spouse, and a beautiful, healthy child. It was so bloody unfair.

Cuddy was deep into her pity party when she heard the door open. As angry and depressed as she felt, she couldn't allow what was most likely one of her staff – technically one of her former staff, since she'd been stripped of all responsibilities for hiring, firing or otherwise dealing with Human Resources matters – to find her sitting on the floor in a toilet stall.

Cuddy quickly got to her feet, pulled up her skirt, pulled down her hose and panties and sat down. Luckily, she'd had good aim when she was losing her stomach contents earlier, so she didn't have to sit on anything nasty. She relieved herself while the employee did the same. Cuddy waited to hear the flush in the other stall and then the sound of the water in the sink as the employee washed her hands.

Cuddy wiped herself, pulled up her panties and hose, pulled down her skirt, opened the stall and quickly went to lock the bathroom door. She'd need some time to do something with her face. She looked in the mirror over the sink. Between the vomiting and the crying, her makeup was a streaky mess. Cuddy got some soap and washed up. She wiped her face with paper towels.

She certainly didn't look as good as she had when she left the condo this morning; she'd learned how to cover a lot with the careful use of makeup. Seeing her own face bare like this was quite the shock – she looked so tired and so old.

She checked her watch. The day shift would begin in about a half-hour. That was enough time to get to her purse in her office. Of course, she no longer had a private bathroom to use, but she had at least convinced the board to give her an office with non-glass walls.

She told them she would be less effective raising money with people walking by and staring at the donors. She didn't know if that was true, but she knew her former employees would need some time to "adjust" to her new "role," and the last thing she needed was to have people passing by and gawking at her. God knows, what had happened was humiliating enough.

So, she stepped out of the bathroom and hurried toward the elevator to get to her first floor office. She walked by the room again, but resisted the urge to stop and stare. That didn't prevent the jealously she felt from rising up like bile in her throat. She made it to her office with no one noticing her.

Cuddy locked her door and pulled out a hand mirror she kept in her desk. She got the makeup out of her purse and re-applied it. Her office didn't have the lighting that her bathroom mirror did (the one luxury she had allowed herself in the new condo was a decent sized bathroom with good lighting), so her makeup probably wasn't going to look as good as it had this morning, but this would have to do.

She checked her calendar and found she had an appointment with a donor in about two hours. She turned on her computer and got into her e-mail. _Another tedious day_, she thought.

She tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting back to House. She could feel her anger intensifying. And the worst part was that she couldn't do a damn thing about it. If the board even suspected she had so much as looked askance at House (or his wife or baby), she'd be fired on the spot and mostly likely lose her medical license as well.

She just couldn't afford that, literally. It wasn't like she could start a new profession at forty-six with no other visible means of support. She needed this job and so she needed to stay the hell away from House and his – she winced – family.

The worst part was the time stretching endlessly before her. Yes, forty-six was too old to start a new career. But it was also young enough that it meant a good twenty years of working ahead of her. At a job she would, no doubt, become less and less effective at as she aged.

And even if some long lost relative died and left her a fortune (or she won a large legal settlement, she smiled ruefully to herself), and she were miraculously able to quit her job, what would she do with her time?

It was a problem without a solution, as far as she could see. Well, it wasn't like there wouldn't be plenty of time alone to think about it.

Cuddy took one last look at her makeup, straightened up her suit and went back to her e-mails, waiting for the donor to arrive. There was nothing else she could do.

* * *

House returned from his shower and found Ann was still asleep. The baby was sleeping in the bassinet. House was about to climb into the recliner in the room for his own nap when David started to fuss. Luckily, a nurse arrived with a bottle.

"Should I wake your wife?" the nurse asked tentatively.

"No," House replied. "She's so weak she can't even lift her arms to feed him. Let her sleep and get her strength back."

"Would you like to feed him, then?" the nurse questioned.

"Um, yeah, sure," House answered, sounding as much like he was trying to convince himself as anything else.

House sat in a chair and the nurse handed him the baby. She showed him how to tuck David's head into the crook of his arm, and how to hold the bottle so that the formula didn't flow too quickly.

The baby settled contentedly into House's arms and the nurse left the room unobtrusively.

House watched his son intently. This was the child he had avoided because he was going to give him up. The child that would have been happier without House in his life. The child he'd tried not to feel anything for.

As House was thinking about all of this, the strangest thing happened. He started to feel something. At first, House wasn't sure what it was. It continued to increase in intensity, until it felt like House's chest was going to burst.

It was the closest House had ever come to experiencing something that was inexplicable. The simple act of holding and feeding his son had filled him with emotion. From that moment, he knew he was in love with his child.

House bent down to kiss his forehead and David stirred just a little before he continued sucking. When the bottle was done, House put the baby on his shoulder and burped him.

When David had finished, House thought about putting the baby back into his bassinet, but he decided he wanted to talk to him first. House knew it was at least five kinds of silly, but he felt compelled to do it.

"Davy," House began, using what would become his own term of endearment for his son, "I just wanted to tell you a few things. I know you can't actually understand this now, but I thought you'd need to hear this a few times over your life, and if I start saying this to you now, I can practice, so I'll have the chance to get it right.

"Anyway, there will be times when you're talking to me, or crying, or yelling, or laughing, or expressing some thought or emotion, and you'll look at me and I won't respond. I won't be ignoring you. I'll be thinking WWJD, and, in this case, it won't be Jesus, 'cause your mother and I are both atheists, but John, as in What Would John Do. John is my father, by the way, and you and I are both lucky he didn't live long enough to be around you. I know that sounds harsh, but, my father was a prick.

"So, I'll be thinking about what he would do, so I'll know to do the opposite. I'm aware that this seems a little strange, and that I should somehow just know how to be a dad, and I wish I did, but I don't. I'll be using him as sort of the Anti-Guidance, if that makes any sense at all.

"And in keeping with that philosophy of doing the exact opposite of what he would, I'm going to warn you right now, I'm going to be hugging and kissing you. A lot. Every chance I get, in fact. Mainly because he never touched me except to hit me or hurt me in some way.

"Which means that every touch you will get from me will be about affection. Nothing creepy or anything, just letting you know constantly that I love you. Right now that probably doesn't sound too badly to you. And it probably won't for the next few years. But, there will come a time when you're an adolescent and a hug or especially a kiss from your old dad (and that's not just an expression - I will literally be older than dirt by then) will seem like the last thing you want. Sorry, you're going to get it anyway. I'm just warning you ahead of time that I'm going to love you, and I'm going to show it for the rest of my life. If that embarrasses you, well, I can't help it. And I hope that you appreciate it when you're an adult, but there is no guarantee of that, either. But I just have to do this.

"That's what I wanted to tell you."

House began to live what he had promised by bending down and kissing his son on every part of him that was exposed, which, between the swaddling and the cap really wasn't much. He put the baby back in the crib and sighed with exhaustion as he climbed into the recliner. Even though it wasn't the most comfortable spot he'd ever slept in, for the first time in days, House finally got some deep, undisturbed, contented sleep.


	59. Chapter 59

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and I'm still not completely happy with it, but I wanted to show that bringing a newborn home is not an entirely stress-free event, especially for people who, as my six-year-old daughter would say, "have issues." Anyway, let me know what you think.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

Ann and David spent another week in the hospital.

House had a small dust-up with the OB/GYN when he asked if they wanted David to be circumcised. House had told Ann it was completely unnecessary, and Ann did her own research and strongly agreed. If the doctor had merely suggested it and then backed off when they turned him down, it would have been fine. But, the doctor returned after House left and tried to convince Ann to do it.

He told Ann there were medical reasons for it, which Ann refuted. He told Ann that David would look "different" from his father if they didn't do it. Ann informed the doctor that she was very happily married to an uncircumcised man, so it wasn't a problem. The doctor then tried to persuade her that she didn't want David to look different from his peers, who most likely would be circumcised.

At about this point, House returned. He was already pissed that the doctor came back when he was gone, no doubt hoping to intimidate a weakened Ann by throwing his medical "credentials" in her face. Of course, House had intimidated more than a few patients in his time - sometimes it was the only way to get them to accept diagnostic procedures or treatments.

But, House had always done that in the service of saving the patient's life, not because he could pick up a quick few hundred for what had to be the only cosmetic procedure routinely and unquestioningly covered by insurance. As far as House was concerned, if Obama wanted to get the waste out of the health care system, not paying for all the unnecessary circumcisions would be a good place to start

In any case, the doctor beat a hasty retreat when he saw House, and House told him not to come back, actually using the word "negligence" to describe the fact that the OB/GYN hadn't noticed the signs of Ann's pre-eclampsia. After the doctor left, Ann said something about burning bridges and House told her there were other OB/GYNs, some of whom were even competent.

By the time they left to go home, Ann was still weak, but she was feeling quite a bit better. She was pleased that even with all the delays because of her being sick and the anesthesia and medication, she was finally able to breast-feed David. House referred to himself as a "merely interested observer," even as he leered. It made Ann feel just a little less unattractive in her post-partum state.

House took advantage of the benefits offered by the hospital and decided he would take some paternity leave. Ann worried that he might go a little stir crazy, so she had Chase let everyone on the team know he was still available for "consultation" as long as it didn't involve his going to the hospital. That seemed to work out reasonably well; he was called infrequently, but it was still enough to keep him engaged.

Tom and Bob stayed for a short time. Never having had any children of his own, Bob was pretty much useless as far as taking care of babies was concerned, but he was ever-willing to run errands and he also helped keep House busy. They played a lot of music together and found they had similar taste in television shows and movies.

Tom was more help with David, since he had been a pretty hands-on dad with his own son. He warned Ann about baby boys' propensity to "mark their territory" and taught her how to change a diaper to minimize that risk. David still managed to nail everyone who was changing him at least once, but it was better than if no one had warned them.

Danielle and Chase assisted evenings and weekends. When Danielle was there, she pretty much took over David duty, which freed Ann to do the mountains of laundry, cooking and cleaning she was unable to get to otherwise.

Ann was very tired, and when she got home from the hospital, she had decided it would be easier for late-night feedings if she stayed in the guest room with David and used the fold-out couch. House was less than thrilled with the arrangement, even when Ann assured him it would only be temporary. After having been alone for most of his life, he craved contact with the woman he loved. It was painful not to have her in his bed, but he reluctantly agreed.

A couple of weeks went by and Bob and Tom went home. Unlike last year, Thanksgiving was quiet, with just House, Ann, David, Danielle and Chase. Over Ann's protests, they had purchased Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant. The food turned out to be quite good, and clean-up was quick. Chase and Danielle stayed for the weekend. Danielle helped with David and Chase kept House occupied, much like Bob had, without the music, of course.

Ann was still looking for someone to watch David when she went back to work. She was planning to continue working from home, but she knew she would still need someone to help her with the demands of an infant if she wanted to have any chance of getting something done.

So, Ann began to interview nannies. At first, she thought the process would easier if House ended his leave and went back to work. While that was most likely true, she also realized that anyone who was going to be in their home for an extended period would have to be able to deal with House's "quirks," so he needed to be involved in the decision.

Of course, House's idea of a "suitable" nanny tended toward female, young, pretty, foreign college students, who, by a striking coincidence in each case, had native languages that House spoke and Ann didn't. She swore there was no jealousy involved when all of these nannies, by an equally startling coincidence, were deemed "unsuitable" by Ann.

They finally settled on a sixty-something, slightly plump, rosy-cheeked woman who was originally from Ireland. She had married a businessman and had come to the U.S. to raise her own family. Her husband had passed away and her children were grown and scattered all over the country.

House wasn't one hundred percent sure he liked the choice, especially since the new nanny wasn't easily intimidated. House would make one of his patented outrageous comments, and Aleena would simply look at him over her glasses and sigh, totally unfazed by House's antics.

If the opportunity presented itself, she would even engage him verbally, and, much to House's annoyance, she usually got the better of him. House wasn't exactly happy about that, but he had to admit it wasn't boring, so she gradually gained his respect.

The one thing truly angered House was that when Aleena was working, she took charge of David. House could barely get a look at him, let alone hold him, change him, feed him or play with him. House resented his exclusion.

Not that Ann was much better. Once Aleena left, Ann took over, and that wasn't just a figure of speech. She did everything for and with David, and again, House hardly had the opportunity to see him.

Now, if you had told House before David was born that he would want to be with his son this much, he would not have believed it. But, after he almost gave him up, and after he'd promised David he was going to be physically close to him, he was, at the very least, frustrated. And, if he admitted everything he was feeling, he was seriously hurting.

On top of that, Ann continued to sleep in the spare room with David. House installed a co-sleeper bassinet on the bed in the master bedroom and showed it to Ann. It made no difference. He kept hoping she would come back to their room, but, as the time passed, he didn't see things changing.

House was an intelligent man. Some people even called him brilliant. But, he couldn't understand this. He was married, and he had a child and he was as lonely as he had been when he was single. In fact, he was even lonelier. He felt like a starving man at a banquet not allowed to eat any of the nourishing food that was just outside of his reach.

The holidays were approaching. House remembered the previous year when he and Ann had been so close. He didn't think he could get through Christmas with them and be on the outside like this. He decided he had no choice but to spend it alone in a hotel. It would hurt like hell, but it was still better than the way things were in his own home.

Ann had spent the week decorating the house for Christmas. It was even more crowded in the living room, but she consoled herself that next year they'd be in the new house and have all kinds of space. She had finished the latest load of laundry and put David's clothes away in his room before she put him down for a nap.

Ann went into their bedroom to put away the rest of the laundry. House had a suitcase open on the chair and was packing clothes.

"What's going on?" she asked. "It's an odd time of year to go to a conference . . . "

"Not going to one," House stated tersely.

"Is your mom okay?'

"I talked to her three days ago, and I haven't heard anything since, so I would say yes."

"Then why are you packing?"

"I can't do this anymore."

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

"I can't be pushed out like this. I'm an outsider in my own home. I'm not allowed to take care of my son. Hell, my wife won't even sleep with me."

"What?"

"Oh, stop acting surprised. Everyone but me gets to hold David, to change him, to play with him. I barely even get a look at him as he's passing by. And you won't get near me. You're running around, doing meaningless shit and you won't talk to me or touch me."

"Greg, that's not what's going on and you know it! I'm taking care of an infant. I'm extremely busy."

"You're not too busy to sleep, I hope."

"Some days, it's feels like I am."

"On the days you do sleep, why aren't you in bed with me?"

"I'm just staying in the guest room so I can take care of David at night. I'm trying to let one of us get some rest."

"So, this is some grand gesture you're making for me, huh? I didn't ask you do that. We talked about this and we knew what we were getting into. I was prepared, or at least, as prepared as I thought I could be."

"Greg, this is just so exhausting and unpredictable. There's no schedule, and I know you need at least some schedule because of your leg and your meds – "

"Oh, don't throw my disability in my face! You knew that going in. If you didn't want a cripple for your baby daddy, you shouldn't have let me knock you up!"

"Greg, please –"

"What? It's the truth. And that still doesn't explain why you won't sleep with me."

"It's not true. And I told you, it's easier for me if I'm in the same room with him when he wakes up during the night."

"So, bring the crib in our room."

"Sometimes, the only way to get him quiet is to bring him in bed with me. I'm afraid if there's two of us – "

"That I'll roll over on him? Why to you think I put this contraption on the bed?"

"I guess that would help. But your sleep will still be disrupted - "

"I'm an adult. I should be able to determine for myself how much sleep I need. And I'm an insomniac, which means I'm not going to be sleeping anyway. Since you know all this, it can't possibly be the real reason you're shoving me aside."

"I'm not shoving you aside!"

"Then why won't you sleep with me?"

"I . . . I . . . can't."

"Because you don't want me any more?"

"No! Absolutely not. It's the opposite. I want you so much, and I can't, that is, we can't for weeks yet. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to sleep with you and feel your erection and know I can't satisfy you?"

"Last time I checked, your hands work just fine. So, if you really felt that awful about my dick being hard, you could take care of it."

"It's not like having sex."

"No, it's not. But it would work until we could."

"Don't you want to wait to sleep with me until we can have sex? Don't you want someone in your bed that isn't inadequate?"

"You know, I always thought you were intelligent, but you're a moron."

"What?"

"Don't you get it? You could have died, or never come out of the coma. It was four days, Annie. Four days out of my mind worrying about you. You wake up and then you spend a week in the hospital recuperating. Okay, so I figure I'll wait until you get home. Then you come home, and you run off to sleep in the other room."

"So?"

"So, I want you in my bed again."

"But, we can't do anything!"

"I want to hold you, you idiot."

"But, you're not, um, you told me the touching stuff, um, you don't . . . "

"Annie, I almost _lost_ you." House's entire chest cavity suddenly seized with emotion, forcing his voice to catch hard in his throat. His chest heaved visibly. "I just . . . I . . . I want . . . you."

He stood there in front of her, with his head down. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. His breathing was a combination of hitching and sobbing.

Ann looked at him, completely stunned. She didn't realize her being sick had had this impact on him. Of course, she'd been in a coma, so she didn't know how upset he was.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she said as she closed the gap between them and started moving her hands up and down his arms. She was dying to hold him, but she wasn't sure he wanted that. "I had no idea I was doing this to you. Please forgive me for being clueless, okay?"

House's head dropped as he buried his face in the space between Ann's neck and shoulder. His arms enveloped her as she finally embraced him, one hand on the back of his head and the other in the middle of his back. Both of her hands gently stroked him.

After a few minutes, his crying stopped, and, before long, they were lying on the bed together.

"David's taking a nap, right?" House asked.

"For the next couple of hours, yes," Ann replied.

"Sleep with me, Annie."

"But, I have so much to do."

"It'll all be there when you wake up."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"After you've survived rape, being in a coma and being married to me, how bad can some extra laundry be?"

"Being with you isn't about surviving, it's about being happy."

"Then let's get happy."

They shed clothes and got under the covers. House's hands were everywhere, drinking in the body he'd missed so much. Ann was amazed at the tenderness and longing in those fingers. Every where he touched her seemed to make her hum, and he touched her everywhere.

"I'd forgotten what this feels like," she murmured as he continued to revel in her body.

"It's been a while," House agreed. He was reluctant to discuss it because he was finally getting what he wanted, but he couldn't help himself. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Keep me away from you and David."

"That wasn't my intention. My intention was to . . . help you."

"By separating me from the two of you?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it does sound kind of stupid."

"What way would you put it, then? I mean, so it doesn't sound stupid."

"I'm not sure I can. It _was_ stupid."

"You're a very intelligent woman. There has to be more to this than your doing something dumb because you were sleep-deprived."

"Hey, until you've been this tired, don't underestimate how much it affects your thinking."

"Internship and residency, remember? I used to be up for two days straight."

"I've never understood what the point of that whole thing was. You have inexperienced people without much professional judgment yet, and then you throw in making them feel dead on their feet. What does that accomplish, other than almost ensuring a medical disaster?"

"I think it has more to do with cheap labor and the human tendency to want to haze the new members of the group, but we're getting off track here. Why did you do this?"

"I'm not sure."

"And I know you well enough by now that I know you have a reason for everything you do. Spill it."

"Well, I didn't get to see David being born."

House winced. "I'm sorry. I should have noticed something."

"Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. You weren't even here – "

"No, I was working on a case at the hospital."

"You saved someone's baby boy."

"Still – "

"Nothing. And I'm not incompetent. I should have noticed I wasn't feeling well."

"The symptoms of pre-eclampsia are very similar to the symptoms of late stage pregnancy – "

"True. And I still felt funny. Different. Not good. And I should have listened to my own body and known something was wrong."

"Denial is a powerful thing."

"And so is my need to control. I couldn't control what happened to me. I couldn't control the less-than-ideal circumstances of David's birth, and I couldn't control how long I was stuck in the hospital, unable to care for my own baby."

"Not to mention the lovely Lucas B-and-E the month before you gave birth. So, once you got home, you did the full court press. Control everything, don't get distracted by your husband, take on everything involving your child – "

"Hey, Tom took care of him, so did Danielle and Aleena – "

"All of whom you could kick out eventually. Unlike me."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll try to do better. I'll make sure I you have access to David twenty-four-seven. I'll ask you about everything –"

"Hey, take it easy. Don't go nuts the other way, and feel like you need to check your brain at the door, either, okay? Can't we just be together and be with our son?"

"Not if you leave." Ann gestured toward the partially packed suitcase on the chair.

"Are you kidding? Now that I have you in our bed . . . in my grasp . . . "

With one arm, House pulled Ann towards him. Ann expected his lips to crash down on her lips; instead he placed his mouth tenderly against hers. All the yearning they both felt made them open their mouths. Their tongues circled as they melted into a gentle yet breathless kiss.

After a while, they broke for air and House's hand traveled to Ann's fulcrum. He rubbed lightly against her lips, causing her to shudder. His finger slipped under her hood and he lightly tickled her clit. She squirmed in delight. He began to apply more pressure. Ann moaned and threw her head back. It had been weeks since he had touched her and she melted from his skillful hands. Her orgasm was a series of intense contractions that made her entire body shake.

After she recovered a bit, she reached for him. He was not quite a full height, but he was almost there. With a few masterful stokes she had him completely erect. She stopped stroking him and pulled back his foreskin, lightly tickled the tip the way he had tickled her clit. House groaned loudly.

After a few moments, she bent down and starting licking him. She let his foreskin slide back and continued to lick underneath it. One hand stroked while the other hand fondled his balls. Between his pent up need and the incredible stimulation, House exploded quickly.

When he came down from his high, there was one of his favorite sights – Ann's breasts covered with his cum. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, smelling and feeling his semen transfer from her chest to his own.

After they stopped, Ann made an observation. "Let me just say, if I haven't been clear about it before, my former OB/GYN is an idiot."

"You mean because he didn't diagnose the pre-eclampsia?" House asked, puzzled why her mind would trip to that at this particular moment.

"No, because he wanted me to mutilate David and deny his significant other ability to give him the pleasure I just gave you. Why would anyone do that?"

"Probably because he's circumcised and he either doesn't know how good it feels when you aren't, or because he pissed that someone took his foreskin. And then there's the quick few hundred he makes for ten minutes of work."

"I guess. It's still stupid."

"Hence, why you'll no longer be seeing him."

At that moment, they heard the baby start to fuss over the monitor.

"Naptime's over," Ann noted. "I hate to do it, but I'd better get your stuff washed off my chest before I go feed him."

House had grabbed his used t-shirt off the floor of the room and wiped his chest. "I'll go get him while you clean up."

"Okay." Ann headed for the bathroom and House went to David's room.

"Whoa," House's nose twitched as he picked David up. "Someone needs a change, and since I'm not incontinent yet, that would be you, Davy."

House put David on the changing tale and strapped him in. At this point, David was too young to roll over by himself, but there was no point in tempting fate. House got the diapers and wipes and unsnapped the legs of the baby's sleeper. He pulled the bottom portion up and out of harm's way and carefully opened the diaper David was currently wearing.

Although House made a big show about the smell, it wasn't really that bad. Certainly not as bad as it was going to be once David starting eating even the pureed versions of regular food, let alone when he started in on the actual stuff. Of course, even that wouldn't be too terrible for House, especially considering House's experiences with infectious diseases and autopsies.

He carefully pulled back the diaper and gently wiped off the remnants that stuck to David's lower region, along with any liquid remains. He put the new diaper under him, leaving the top covering his equipment. House quickly covered the baby's behind and genitals with zinc oxide cream and closed up his diaper. He used a wipe to get the zinc oxide off his fingers and he tossed the used diaper and wipes in the diaper pail. He used the hand sanitizer that was near the changing table, pulled David's sleeper back on and snapped it in place. He picked David up and carried him on his left shoulder as walked to their bedroom.

"Hey, milkmaid, get the udders pumping," House proclaimed as he entered the room. Ann wasn't on the bed the way he had expected her to be. She emerged from the closet. House noticed the suitcase he was going to use was gone, along with the clothes he had put in it.

"You don't mind that I put your stuff away, do you?" Ann asked tentatively.

"No. Don't need it any more," House replied.

"I hope you never need it again. At least under the same circumstances."

"Same here. Listen, can we do something?" House questioned as David began to fuss once more.

"Sure."

Ann watched as House sat down carefully on the bed with David. He removed David's sleeper and set it aside. House then maneuvered so he was sitting against the headboard and adjusted the pillows to support his back. He opened his legs and patted the space between them.

Ann remembered when they had done that in the hospital. She climbed on the bed and slid between his legs. House handed David to her and she held him in the crook of her arm so he would latch on to her breast.

The last time they had done this it was about House helping Ann. This time, Ann was strong enough not to need House to hold the baby for her. And it was in the privacy of their home, without people walking by looking at them through glass walls. Both House and Ann were naked and Ann could feel House's manhood pressing against her butt. He wasn't erect, just sort of, well, interested, Ann thought.

"Why did you take off David's sleeper? You don't think he's going to be cold, do you?"

"First of all, ever since you brought him home, the heat's been cranked up to about ninety-five. I'm sweating the temperature and the power bills."

"Please, we can afford it."

"Maybe. Second, I don't think he's going to be cold with you and me holding him."

House pulled up the blanket to cover himself and Ann up to their waists. He put his arms around Ann's arms, which were, of course, holding the baby.

Ann relaxed against House's chest. "This is nice. Lots of skin on skin."

"That's what I was going for."

As David suckled, Ann found herself leaning more into House. Without even thinking about it, she started rubbing her cheek against his. Actually, it wasn't really rubbing. It was lighter, like a caress. Until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she missed him. The smell of him, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin against hers. She found her eyes filling up. It was pathetic, really, and she hoped House didn't see it. No such luck.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," She replied with a slightly thickened voice.

"Come on, what is it?"

"It's really lame."

"I can handle lame," House responded, indicating his leg. "Well, maybe not that well, but – "

House's self-deprecation, for some reason, hit Ann, and made her even more weepy. She couldn't stop the tears that began sliding down her cheeks.

"What's wrong? What did I say?" House asked, concern filling his voice. He had so wanted this to be a pleasant, if not a happy experience, and here was Ann, crying. He was so useless.

"It's not you," Ann hiccupped. "It's me. I'm still so damn emotional. I thought I'd be through with the stupid hormones . . . "

"Just take it easy, okay?"

Ann found herself smiling, even as she continued to cry.

"Okay, now I'm completely confused. I don't know how to react to this," House said, indicating her laughing and crying at the same time.

"You poor man," Ann replied. Her voice was stronger. "I'm sorry to put you through this."

"Do you even know why you're crying?"

"I think I just realized how very much I love you."

"And that made you _cry_?"

"It made me deliriously happy, and _that_ made me cry."

"O-_kay_. I guess you are still riding the hormone express."

Ann sniffled and settled back in. House tightened his grip around both of them.

"If you promise not to cry, can I tell you I love you, too?" House questioned.

Ann giggled. "You can always tell me that. But no promises." She planted a slow, tender kiss against his cheek.

David finished. They put him back in his sleeper, and put him in his co-sleeping spot. House spooned Ann, and everyone settled in for a well-deserved nap.


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

A/N: Just a few comments here about circumcision. I was heartened to see all the support my reviewers gave me. To anyone outside the U.S. who wonders why this is such an issue, let me explain. Setting aside when the procedure is done for religious reasons, circumcisions are still widely performed in the U.S. When I did research on the practice before my son was born, I found it became a common practice in the U.S. during the Victorian era. For some unknown reason, doctors and scientists of that era became convinced that masturbation was a debilitating practice (i.e., it weakened your health), and that circumcision would somehow make it less likely that boys and men would masturbate. Three guesses how effective that was in stopping masturbation! Anyway, the practice continues to this day, being done under the guise of health (studies have shown it does reduce the risk of penile cancer - by about _0.004%_) and cleanliness (apparently, because it's just too tough for a guy to pull back his foreskin in the shower). It is also done for cosmetic reasons, like the boy should look like his dad (i.e., dad was circumcised), or he should look like his friends (who most likely will be circumcised). Vicious cycle, anyone?

As far as the doctor pressuring Ann to have the circumcision performed, I had a similar experience with my OB/GYN. She said all the same things Ann's doctor said to her, and since she was from the Philippines, added that it would be easier for my son to have the operation as an infant because she had seen how tough it was for Muslim boys who have it done around twelve years old. Of course, given that I am a former Catholic turned atheist and my husband is a former Presbyterian turned Buddhist, it's none too likely my son will wake up one day decide to convert to Islam. Of course, if he does, we will support him, even through any surgery he would need to have. In any case, we weren't about to do a pre-emptive circumcision on the remote chance that he would become a Muslim some day.

So, enough on that topic, on with the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs

Things gradually settled down, to the extent they could in any home with an infant. Christmas was approaching and while Ann was excited to celebrate their first Christmas with David, she was still tired. She also had to be realistic that a five-week-old baby wasn't going to be able to appreciate the holiday. Of course, that didn't stop her from buying him a few gifts.

As was the case the previous year, Ann didn't want her family traveling from Upstate New York in case the weather was bad. And, also like last year, Chase and Danielle were traveling to visit her family for the holidays. So, it looked like it was going to be just the three of them, until House approached Ann the Saturday before Christmas Eve.

"I want to ask you something," House began.

"Go ahead," Ann responded as she breast-fed David. She noticed House was a little anxious, but she decided not to comment on it.

"Listen, Christmas Eve is a week away and we're not going out anywhere, right?"

"Yeah, I think you should wait until David is at least three months old before you bring him to a strip club."

"You're just so morally rigid! Anyway, I was thinking, um, well, I was wondering, would you mind – "

"Did you invite your mom to stay with us for the holidays?"

"Hell, no! The last thing I need is a segment on the local news: 'Princeton doctor's wife arrested for killing mother-in-law. Film at eleven.' "

"But, you do want to invite someone, right?"

"Yes. I don't think I told you much about what I used to do on Christmas Eve before we met."

"I'm guessing it involved a lot of women who told you their names were Bambi or Candi."

"Well, there was this hooker who played the Virgin Mary in a church pageant."

"You know, you have the most interesting experiences. I'm guessing that's not someone who gets sent from an escort service or you pick up in a club or a bar. How did you meet her?"

"She came into the clinic. She had a rash from the donkey she was going to ride in the Christmas show."

"Fascinating. And you want to see her again? Just to let you know, I'm too jealous to be into threesomes."

"Hilarious. No, most of my Christmas Eves for that last ten years before I met you involved hanging out in my apartment, eating Chinese food with Wilson."

"And you want to invite him here to do that this year."

"Yes."

"Well, that could be awkward."

"Precisely. That's why I've taken the liberty of inviting him over this afternoon so you two can talk things out."

"Greg – "

"What? I told you he and I are friends again. He was very supportive when you were in the coma."

"Gee, that was big of him."

"Actually, it was. Or, at least it helped me. Anyway, you two can hash all this out when I go out Christmas shopping this afternoon."

"You're leaving me alone with him?"

"Yes. It's certainly better than if I stayed. You know I suck at emotional stuff. Besides, you won't be completely alone, David will be here."

"Proposing the use of your son as a human shield. Shameful."

"As you well know, I have no shame, so that particular form of manipulation isn't going to work on me."

"Fine. When's he going to get here?"

"Around two. That way, you don't have to make him lunch or anything."

"What thoughtful scheduling."

"I do what I can. Speaking of lunch, it's eleven-thirty. How about giving me the kid and getting me a sandwich?"

Ann handed the baby to House and went to the kitchen to make them lunch. House brought David and put him in his carrier while they ate. After they finished, Ann put David down for a nap.

Ann did a little straightening up after House left to go "shopping." Since the last thing House liked to do was wander around the mall, Ann suspected he was just going to the local multiplex to watch a movie. Most likely, one Ann would have hated and refused to go see with him. (Had it been a movie Ann was willing to see, House would never have gone by himself and missed the opportunity to cop a feel in a darkened theater.)

At one-thirty, Ann decided to pull out her laptop and answer some e-mails. She wrote to Tom and Bob, and attached some recent pictures of David. Before she knew it, it was two o'clock and the doorbell rang.

She opened the door, invited Wilson in, took his coat and directed him to the living room. She sat on the couch and he sat in a chair opposite her. A lengthy silence followed.

"Can we talk?" Wilson asked tentatively, hoping to break the stalemate.

"If the baby doesn't interrupt us."

"I thought House took him."

"It's kind of a pain to take the baby in and out of the car, especially with his cane and the stroller and everything."

"Oh."

Another awkward pause occurred.

"Listen," Wilson began again, "I'm a part of House's life, and you're a part of his life. We're going to have to see each other. I think we need to clear the air at least."

"Fine."

"Um, why don't you like me?"

"One reason is your narcissism. You can't imagine my being uncomfortable around you has anything to do with anyone else, like, say, Greg."

Wilson was about to respond when they heard baby crying through the monitor.

"Excuse me," Ann said as she disappeared down the hallway.

Wilson didn't necessarily want to listen, but he heard Ann's voice through the speaker.

"Hey, baby boy," she cooed. "Feels like somebody needs a change."

Wilson listened to the sound of the diaper tapes being pulled away.

"Promise not to spray mommy, okay?" Ann requested. The baby gurgled in response.

Wilson felt a pang as he listened to Ann continue her activities. For some reason, his mind went to the young cancer patient and the toy lamb. He remembered how awkward Sam had been around her. He'd been an idiot for suggesting Sam have a baby, and, given how things had worked out between them, it had been best that they hadn't had a child, but that didn't keep him from wanting one.

It was funny, in a way. Most people saw him as a womanizer and a cheater. Sure, he could have exercised a little more control over the years, but his cheating and his serial marriages had never been about his rampant sexuality. He had never seen himself as a Casanova, trying to bed as many women as possible.

He was simply looking to build a family. And he was enough of a traditionalist that he thought he should be married to do that. So, as each marriage failed and produced no children, he moved on to the next relationship, always hoping it would work and would lead to his finally having the family he desired.

He wasn't sure how Amber fit into all this. At least outwardly, she was hardly the motherly type, but he had seen flashes of tenderness and vulnerability under all that steel. Well, it wasn't like he would ever know. More pain and regret washed over him.

He needed his best friend back as a part of his life. House and Ann would be together, most likely for the rest of their lives, so Wilson needed to fix this, or, at least, find some kind of truce. This was his last and only chance to set things right.

Ann returned, carrying the baby in her arms. She sat down on the couch across from Wilson and lifted up her shirt. She unsnapped the top of her bra and pulled down the fabric covering her breast. Wilson got a brief glimpse of her breast, including her nipple, before the baby latched on.

"So, where were we?" Ann asked matter-of-factly. "Oh, yes, we were discussing your inability to think of anyone but yourself."

"That's not a true statement," Wilson responded, trying not to sound defensive. "Most people who know me think I'm a caring person."

"Well, you certainly go through the motions very well, from what I've heard. But it's superficial. And it's done for an audience. When it really counts, and when no one's looking, you're just as selfish as anyone else. In fact, I think you're more selfish."

"Why do you say that?"

"How could you ask him to risk his life and his brain like that?"

"I was out of my mind with fear. I wasn't thinking straight."

"That's bullshit."

"No, it isn't. People make bad choices when they're that emotional. "

"I agree with that. But, what you did was beyond the pale."

"I don't think it was, given the circumstances. Or, are you telling me that you are perfect and you don't make mistakes?"

"Hmm, turning the tables, nice tactical move. I'm hardly making the case that I'm perfect. I've made some genuinely stupid decisions when I was in a bad emotional state. I was so upset about my father's suicide that I married someone I didn't love, hoping it would make me feel better. When that didn't work, I became an alcoholic. I got so drunk I forgot to lock the doors of my apartment, and three guys came in and assaulted me and raped me in the mouth and the ass. I tried to avoid dealing with it, and the PTSD got so bad, I almost started drinking again."

"Then why are you judging me?"

"Well, Greg would tell you it's because I'm so good at it. But that's not the point. Even with all the stupid shit I've done in my life, I just wouldn't do what you did. I wouldn't ask anyone else I loved to risk their lives on the off chance that it might help Greg. And Greg is my husband and the father of my child, not someone I'd only been dating a few months."

"We loved each other!"

"The way you loved your ex-wives?"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to relationships. Suppose he'd been able to help her, but, he'd died or become a vegetable? You would probably have broken up with her within the year. Then what? Or hadn't you thought of that?"

"Not at the time, but I have since."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did you come to any conclusions?"

"That I shouldn't have asked House to do it."

"Well, that's a first step, I guess."

"What else?"

"Hasn't it ever occurred to you what an amazing thing he did for you? It was the most selfless thing I'd ever heard of. You asked and he said yes. And you've never even thanked him."

"I know. But how do you thank someone for that? Words aren't adequate."

"So, you just gave up, then?"

"No. Besides, you know House. Words are just words. Actions are what matter. It's part of the reason I had him live with me after Mayfield. It's why I bought him the organ."

"And then you pushed him out on the street the minute you had a woman in your life again."

"That turned out to be a mistake."

"That everyone else saw coming a mile away, except you."

"You've already told me I'm an idiot. Why are telling me again?'

"See, you're missing the point here. I don't care that Greg has a friend who does stupid things. Everyone's friends do. What I care about is that he has a friend that does stupid things that hurt him. Profoundly. I love Greg and I don't want to see that happen to him again."

"You can't control him."

"I know he's an adult and he makes his own choices. And, for some bizarre reason, you're one of the few people he's chosen to love."

"And for more obvious reasons, so are you."

"Obvious? Are you saying that because you got a good look at one of my breasts?"

"Well, I meant because it's plain for anyone to see that you love him very much. But, knowing House the way I do, I'm sure the ta-tas don't hurt, either."

There was a pause as they both smiled and some of the tension dissipated.

"Just don't hurt him, please."

"I never meant to."

"That's what makes it so dangerous. You don't seem to know when you're doing it. Or, you don't care."

"I do care! I've helped him! I've dealt with him when no on else would."

"Stop making it sound like he was gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe. He's an amazing, beautiful, difficult human being. And he's worth whatever we can give him."

"I know that. I just forget sometimes, I guess."

"Well, no more 'forgetting.' He has a family now that needs him very much."

"I know."

There was another pause. David was finished. Ann put herself back together and burped him.

"May I hold him?" Wilson asked. "I promise to be careful."

"I'm not really worried about your hurting him now, since I don't think he has anything you can use," Ann replied as she handed the baby to Wilson.

Wilson took him and carefully placed the baby's head in the crook of his arm. "What does that mean?"

"I'm looking ahead about twenty years. You have a girlfriend you've been dating for two weeks who suddenly needs a kidney transplant. David turns out to be a match, so you ask Greg if you can have one of his kidneys."

"That's ridiculous. I'd never do anything like that."

"Well, I may have exaggerated a little."

"I would never ask anything like that of anyone."

"No, you'd just ask Greg to fry his brain on the off chance that he could help your girlfriend of four months."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I can't. He loves you and he's selfless enough to do pretty much anything you ask. Throw in the fact that your judgment is weak, at best, and I don't think it's unreasonable for me to be worried."

"What can I do to reassure you?"

"Meds or therapy—"

"House is on meds, isn't he? And he's still in therapy, too."

"I meant for you."

"_Me_?"

"Well, you're the one with the problem."

"No, I'm not! House was the one who went to Mayfield."

"You know, as a society, the way we view mental health issues is royally screwed-up. The people who get help are stigmatized and the ones who need it but refuse it are actually considered okay."

"What are you talking about?"

"He got treatment and got better. You're the one who is walking around like an undiagnosed time bomb."

"I'm not mentally ill."

"If you say so. But, you at least have to admit you have issues."

"What issues?"

"Are you kidding me? Three failed marriages, clinging to a dead girlfriend, getting back together with an ex for God knows what reason."

"Alright. But, otherwise, I'm doing okay."

"Professionally, possibly. But the rest of your life is pretty messed up."

"I don't see how you can say that."

"I'm sure you don't. So, let me spell it out. You have no friends other than a guy who is perfectly willing to guilt you into giving him a part of your liver, and a guy you think of as a drug addict and screw-up. Not promising."

"I wrecked Tucker's liver with the treatment I proposed. I owed it to him."

"Did you give him the wrong treatment?"

"No."

"So, why did he feel entitled to part of one of your organs, then? I hope you don't do that with every patient who has a bad outcome. There isn't going to be much of you left if you do."

"I don't, obviously. And what did you say about my being friends with a drug addict and a screw-up? I thought you said House wasn't like that."

"He isn't."

"Then why-?"

"I said _you_ thought of him that way."

"Well, he does take drugs."

"For pain. Just like your cancer patients do."

"That's different."

"Why? Because their cancer is real and his pain isn't? Have you ever actually looked at that huge hole in his thigh? "

"Well, he doesn't exactly push it in my face most of the time."

"So, because he has a modicum of pride and doesn't like to constantly cry about his disability, his pain isn't real?"

"Well, if it were that bad – "

"It _is_ that bad. The fact that he's trying to maintain a shred of personal dignity by not whining pathetically to convince you should hardly be a problem for you."

"It isn't."

"Well, it keeps you from believing how much he hurts."

"He's my friend. I don't like to think about it."

"Oh, so because it offends your delicate sensibilities, you'd rather think he was an addict? As friends go, I'd say that's pretty crappy."

"I can't be that bad a friend to him. He still cares about me."

"The fact that he is a generous, loving spirit willing to take on someone as messed up as you doesn't in any way, shape or form make you a good friend."

"So, he's the good guy and I'm the screw-up."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's odd because most people see it the other way around."

"Because most people are idiots. They only see what's on the surface. They don't bother to see what's really happening or who really is a good person and who isn't. It's why sociopaths are able to be so successful."

"Are you saying I'm a sociopath?"

"Of course not. I just think you have some problems you need to stop denying and deal with, that's all."

"So, if I go to see a shrink, I can be House's friend again?"

"I think you'll be Greg's friend regardless of what you do, because he's just that loyal. But, if you don't want the feeling that you're being watched like a hawk every time you are with him or contact him, you might want to think about it."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a fact. It's my nature to protect my own. I simply can't let you hurt him again."

"I don't know . . . "

"Are you happy?"

"What? "

"Honestly, are you happy? To the outside observer, you don't seem to be. I would think you would want to know why, and that you would want to fix it. It's what I did."

"You've been in therapy?"

"I suppose you can get through substance abuse and PTSD without it, but it's easier if you get help. Not that I'm saying therapy is easy."

"I'll consider it."

"Also, it doesn't work if you're just going through the motions to appease your friend's wife. You need to commit to it."

"If I just wanted to appease you, I'd have told you I'd do it the minute you suggested it."

"Okay. Good to know."

There was a break in the conversation as Wilson looked at David.

"He's really beautiful."

"I know. He looks just like his father."

"I think he looks more like you. He has your mouth, which is nicer. And, I think he'll have your hair, which is definitely better than House's."

"Is this a charm offensive?"

"Just my observations."

They stopped talking when they heard the garage door open. Wilson got up and handed David back to Ann. House entered the room shortly thereafter.

"So, can I leave the two of you in the same room now without having to hide guns, knives, or household cleaners?"

"Cleaners?" Wilson asked.

"Hey, you mix some of that stuff together, it can be lethal," House replied.

"Thank you, Heloise," Wilson said.

"So, I recorded a monster truck rally that was on last week," House informed Wilson. "Wanna watch it now?"

"Sure," Wilson agreed.

"Are you going to watch, too?" House questioned Ann.

"No," Ann answered. "I've got a mountain of laundry, and, I need to start dinner."

"Wilson can help you with the food," House volunteered his friend as he snatched up the remote, sat on the couch, turned on the TV and starting looking through the recorded programs list.

"Cooking involves knives," Wilson observed.

"I think it'll be okay," Ann said. "I'll let you know when I need your help."

"Sounds good," Wilson responded.

Wilson moved to sit on the couch so he was facing the TV, too. Ann finished burping David, got up, handed him to House and left the room.

"Hey, Davy," House said softly. Wilson was amazed to see House give the baby about a half-dozen kisses. Apparently, he couldn't keep the look of shock off his face.

"What?" House asked, his voice showing some irritation.

"Nothing," Wilson replied quietly.

"Come on," House prodded.

"Well," Wilson responded, "You have to admit that it's odd to see you, the self-described misanthropic bastard, tenderly kissing a baby."

"First of all, those were hardly 'tender' kisses."

"Well, I don't see any bruises or abrasions."

"Yeah, well, they were still pretty forceful."

"If you say so."

"Second, a misanthropic bastard can love a baby, just based on the smell alone."

"What?"

"Smell him."

Wilson moved a little closer down the couch and took a whiff of the proffered small head.

"So?" Wilson asked.

"What do you mean, 'So'?" House questioned. "He smells amazing."

"He smells just like any other clean, well-fed, loved baby, House. And, thankfully, as crappy a place as the world can be, especially to tiny, vulnerable beings, there are still millions of those."

"Are you saying that the child of Gregory House is ordinary?"

"I have no doubt he'll be driving his care-givers, teachers, peers, employers, significant others, children, and his elder-care providers over the years to distraction, without even really having to try. So, in that sense, he'll be unordinary. And a genuine chip off the old block."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"So, how did it go with Ann?"

"She's tough."

"She's married to me. She has to be."

"True."

"And how did it go?"

"Well, she says she's going to watch me like a hawk to make sure I don't get you to agree to do something stupid."

"Like, say, a DBS?"

"Yes. And, I know I didn't say anything at the time, but it wasn't expected. It was not meaningless or insignificant to me. It meant more than I can say, which is probably why I never talked to you, especially since I know that you think words are just words."

"So, is this part of your rehabilitation with Ann, then?"

"No it's not! Well, maybe a little. Anyway, it needed to be said, regardless."

"Okay."

"She also said she thought I needed therapy and meds."

House snorted. "Well, she hit the nail on the head with that suggestion."

"You think so, too?"

"Wilson, your professional life is burn-out city, and your personal life is in shambles and has been for years. Even someone as clueless as you must realize you have some problems."

"Thanks."

"I know one of the things you always appreciate is my honesty."

"I don't know that I'd use the word 'appreciate,' but . . . "

The TiVo was queued up and House hit play. The colors and noises were obviously fascinating to David, and his fascination was fascinating to House. Wilson marveled as his so-called detached friend reveled in his tiny son's reaction.

"You have no idea how lucky you are, House," Wilson proclaimed. He hadn't intended to say anything, but it just came out.

"Actually, I think I do," House responded.

"I don't mean to be jealous, but I am." Wilson wasn't sure how much of any of this House wanted to hear, or what he should hear, but it was like a damn breaking, and Wilson couldn't stop himself. "You have everything I ever wanted, House – a loving wife and a healthy child, and I still have bupkis, despite every effort I made and in spite of every effort you didn't. Life just sucks sometimes, you know?"

"Yes, but this isn't about that. If you're at all honest with yourself, Wilson, you'll acknowledge that this didn't just fall in my lap. I did a lot of work on myself to get to the point where I could recognize what was being offered to me, let alone be willing to embrace it."

"Maybe . . . "

"Nope, no maybes. Definitely."

There was silence between them as the monster trucks roared across the screen.

"So, are you coming over for Christmas Eve? I still like kung pao beef. Oh, and Ann likes moo shu shrimp. Although I'm not sure she wants to eat a lot of cabbage with the breast feeding. The last thing we need is a colicky, gassy baby."

"Is your wife okay with it?"

"Okay with what?" Ann had come into the living room since it was time to feed David again. She took him from House, sat down, pulled up her shirt and pulled down her bra, after which David latched on greedily.

"Hey, stop checking out my wife's boob," House admonished Wilson.

"He's seen already the right one," Ann noted matter-of-factly.

"When?" House asked peevishly.

"Earlier today," Ann replied, remaining calm in spite of House's obvious irritation.

"House, I'm a doctor," Wilson interjected. "An oncologist, for crying out loud. Do you have any idea how many breast exams I've done over the years?"

"It's not the same," House practically snarled. "Those tits didn't belong to my wife."

"Greg, you do realize that I've taken David with me shopping at the mall," Ann reminded him.

"So?" House questioned.

"I've fed him there," Ann noted.

"In a dressing room," House insisted.

"Nope," Ann said. "I tried that and they threw me out of the store."

"So, where did you feed him?" House asked, with apprehension in his voice.

"On a bench near the food court," Ann answered.

"So, that means half of central New Jersey saw your breasts!" House exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," Ann acknowledged.

"How can you be so relaxed about this?" House questioned.

"They're breasts," Ann replied serenely, "Being used for the purpose they have evolved to fulfill. What's the big deal?"

"Yeah," Wilson's mouth twitched in amusement at House's obvious distress, "What's the big deal?"

"You stay out of this," House responded testily to Wilson. "And keep your eyes to yourself, while you're at it!"

"You're adorable when you're jealous," Ann teased.

"Just adorable," Wilson agreed in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Shut up!" House snapped at both of them. "I'm seriously re-thinking this whole idea of getting you two on speaking terms."

"There will be numerous opportunities for us to gang up on you," Wilson observed dryly

House was silent, brooding.

"I do like moo shu," Ann informed Wilson, "But Greg's right about the cabbage."

"What about shrimp with black bean sauce?" Wilson inquired.

"A lot of times they make that with broccoli, which has an effect similar to cabbage. Shrimp lo Mein would be a good choice, though. There aren't many times when you have an excuse to eat all those carbs," Ann gestured to David, who was feeding noisily.

"True," Wilson agreed. "Breastfeeding moms and marathoners are just about the only people who can get away with it."

"And I'm never going to become a marathoner, so this is the only time I'll be able to do it," Ann acknowledged.

"Well, I guess that's another thing you and House have in common," Wilson quipped.

"A cripple joke, how nice," House scowled at Wilson.

"One of my favorite quotes about running is from Buck Henry, who said, 'I never run unless something _awful_ is chasing me' " Ann noted.

And so the back and forth continued between the three for the rest of the evening. It was fairly relaxed, all things considered. And when it started to snow, Ann insisted Wilson stay overnight. Wilson left after brunch at noon on Sunday.


	61. Chapter 61

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but, I do a lot of my writing on the weekends, and the last three have been particularly busy, and, between that and some writer's block, well, you get the picture.

Also, I'm going to be away starting Monday through the following Sunday, and I probably won't be near an internet connection, so I don't think I'll be able to post. (Not to give anyone the wrong impression – I'm NOT going to be roughing it. I'll be staying for a good portion of the time at a resort-type hotel, and I refuse to pay the exorbitant fees they charge for an internet connection, which should be included in the room cost, like it is at any Comfort Inn.) I will still have the chance to write, so I should be able to post the following week.

And, as a heads-up, I see this story winding down pretty soon. Possibly five (?) more chapters, and an epilogue will about be it, I think, unless the muses surprise me. I do have an idea for a new story, which, depending upon the rest of the season, would probably be a good fic for the summer hiatus. We'll see where the show goes and what the muses think.

* * *

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own House, or the last two seasons would have looked a lot less like watching a bad car wreck in very slow motion. I will take credit for the OCs, though.

The last week before the holidays passed rather quickly. Ann had all of her Christmas shopping done, of course, but she decided she would go out and get a couple more things.

House said he had finished his shopping the Saturday Wilson came over, even after Ann let him know she had found a movie ticket stub in the pocket of his jeans when she went through them before she washed them. House simply maintained that he had seen the movie and gone shopping, too.

Ann remained skeptical, but it really wasn't a big deal. She didn't need anything herself, so if House hadn't bought her a gift, that would be fine. You couldn't get a spectacular piece of jewelry like he had given her last year for every Christmas, she thought, or you would stop appreciating it. Besides, she was a mom now, and had even less occasion to wear something like that. And, beyond the jewelry, she wasn't sure House would know what she wanted or needed, anyway. Not that she minded that.

She had gotten a few things for David, so he would have something (not that he would be traumatized if he didn't, since he was too young to remember anything, anyway). That way, if House hadn't bought anything for him, it still be covered.

Wilson was coming over on Christmas Eve. Ann was pretty sure House didn't buy presents for Wilson. Besides, that was something between House and Wilson, and Ann had said her piece on that subject. House was an adult and Ann was not about to run interference for him with Wilson. At least that's how Ann felt, unlike certain former hospital administrators. So, other than making sure Wilson wasn't hurting House in some way, Ann was going to stay out of their relationship.

House had helped his team via phone and e-mail, and was just finishing up a case Friday evening. David was asleep for the night (or, at least until his 2 a.m. feeding) when House and Ann sat down to dinner.

"Good outcome?" Ann asked about House's latest patient.

"Unless he unexpectedly crashes again, yes," House replied as he ate the sole Ann had prepared for dinner. "This is really good. Hey, we're not harkening back to some ancient Catholic ritual in your family by having fish on Friday, are we?"

"It was on sale this week at the market."

"Oh. You remembered we're having take-out tomorrow night, right?"

"I bought food for brunch and dinner on Christmas, and for brunch and dinner on Boxing Day. Do you think he'll go home on Christmas Eve?"

"He always used to. Of course, when we first started the tradition, he was still married to wife number three. So he really couldn't stay. Once they split up, that wasn't a problem, but since my apartment only had one bedroom, he'd have to sleep on the couch. And he has a bad back."

"Well, we have two guest rooms on this floor and a guest room in the basement, so he can have a real bed and even a real bathroom all to himself."

"Do you want him to stay?"

"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."

There was a pause in the conversation as they both ate.

House went to get seconds, and sat back down at the table. Before he started in on his food, he observed, "New Years' Eve is a little over a week away."

"Uh, huh," Ann agreed.

"So, do you think we'll be able to celebrate?"

"You mean – "

"Yeah, when is your appointment with the new vagina-groper giving us the 'all clear'?"

"I'm going to see her on the thirtieth. I'm sure we'll be good to go after that."

"Woo-hoo! I'll be counting the hours."

"Yeah, me, too."

"What about Davy?"

"What about him?"

"Shouldn't we make provisions so we don't get interrupted?"

"Sounds like an excellent idea. Danielle and Robert will be back by then. I'll call and see if they can take him for New Year's Eve. They'll need the practice."

"Really? Is she - ?"

"No, but, my understanding is that they are trying, or, at least, they've stopped _not_ trying."

"When's the wedding?"

"Valentine's Day."

"God, that sickening. "

"They didn't want to wait any longer."

"That part I get. So, do you think Chase will have her knocked up by then?"

"I don't know. I just know they're working really hard on it."

"Well, that image should kill my libido well into next week."

"I won't mention it again."

"Thanks."

Despite House's contention, his libido was very much alive that night in bed, at least judging by the responsiveness of a certain part of his anatomy. He and Ann pleasured each other with hands and mouths until they were both spent. They didn't think the week could be over fast enough.

* * *

Wilson came over on Christmas Eve, bringing Chinese and no beer. When House asked why, Wilson said he knew House and Ann couldn't drink it. After a snarky comment from House about Wilson's "pseudo self-sacrifice," Wilson was forced to admit he'd become concerned he'd been drinking a little too much since Sam left. That, of course, prompted House to call Wilson a liar for saying the absence of booze was to spare Ann and House the temptation. So, it felt like everything was pretty much back to normal between them.

Ann wasn't thrilled with having her Christmas Eve dinner on the coffee table in the living room, but, House assured her it was tradition, and, if they didn't, how were they going to watch the beginning of the "A Christmas Story" marathon on TV? Ann reminded him there was a perfectly good TV in the kitchen that they could watch and eat like civilized people.

Wilson agreed with Ann until House started to question Wilson's manhood, and then he was more or less forced to agree with House. Ann went along with it, provided that the rest of their meals for the next couple of days were eaten in either the kitchen or the dining room.

"Did you expect me to stay past dinner tonight?" Wilson asked. He sounded both perplexed and slightly pleased.

"Of course," Ann replied. "We certainly wouldn't want you to drive home late, and be too tired or hit bad weather. Besides, our guests are welcome to stay as long as they like."

"Hey," House interjected. "Don't tell him that! How am I going spread your legs and bang you on the living room floor at New Year's Eve if he's still hanging around?"

Wilson put up his hands in defense, "Please, I don't need to know this, since I'll be long gone by then."

"How long gone?" House questioned.

"Well, I'm due into work on Tuesday," Wilson replied

"Did you bring enough clean clothes?" Ann asked, "If not, I do laundry at least twice a day."

"Don't offer to do his laundry!" House exclaimed. "He'll never leave then!"

"House, I have my own place and I want to get back to it," Wilson assured him.

"Why?" House asked mockingly, "To give shots to the diabetic cat?"

"Shit. I better call Nora and tell her to take Sarah for the next couple of days," Wilson said.

"Nora!" House exclaimed. "God, is she still as clueless as ever?"

Wilson didn't respond. He simply rolled his eyes, pulled his cell from his pocket and left the room.

"Who's Nora?" Ann inquired, looking somewhat amused.

"She has a condo in Wilson's building," House responded. "She's such an idiot she thought Wilson and I were a couple."

"Well, you are two good-looking men who were living together," Ann noted.

"Oh, please," House scoffed. "Just because Wilson's a girl doesn't mean that I am."

"I never said you were," Ann stated. "You would most likely be the dominant one in the relationship."

"There was no relationship!" House exclaimed.

Wilson came back into the room from the hall, having completed his call asking Nora to take care of the cat until Tuesday night.

"You do have a very forceful personality," Wilson observed, flawlessly picking up the conversation. "I agree that you most likely would have been the dominant one."

"The next person that utters the phrase, 'bottoming out,' sleeps in the basement," House threatened, "Without the space heater."

"If he's so sensitive," Wilson commented to Ann. "How come I'm the girl?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm not convinced you are," Ann agreed. "I'm glad. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so very sweet to his son."

"That's it!" House put his foot down. "I'm not going to have my feelings for my son being mocked."

"Oh, baby," Ann responded in her most sickish voice, "We're not mocking you; we're just being open to all possibilities."

"Well," House countered, "I'm not sure you want to be 'open' to the possibility that I like men."

"Since when do you like men?" Wilson asked in mock surprise.

"I said that's enough!" It was obvious House was moving beyond exasperation to outright hostility.

Ann started to feel badly for House. She reached up to caress one of his cheeks and then pulled him down to kiss the other. Ann continued on to the rest of his face, kissing his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his forehead and both of his eyes. She finished with a soft kiss of his lips. "Better?"

"Yeah," House agreed.

To say Wilson was surprised watching this scene would be an understatement. He was astonished. House, the self-described misanthropic bastard, accepting tenderness and affection? He almost couldn't believe his eyes.

But, as the evening progressed, Wilson observed all the times House and Ann touched each other. Most of the time, I wasn't even anything sexual. It was a brush of the hand as House passed the Chinese food cartons to her, or, Ann resting her hand on House's back as she leaned over to pick something up from the coffee table.

There were a lot of kisses, too - Ann kissing House's cheek or his neck, House kissing Ann's lips or the back or the palm of her hand.

And, it seemed to Wilson that every time Ann got up and sat down again, she was sitting closer and closer to House. They had full body contact from their heads all the way down to their feet. One of Ann's legs always seemed to be draped over House's lap in some way, unless House's feet were in Ann's lap, being massaged.

Wilson felt, well, he wasn't sure what. It was a mixture of things. Envy was there, for sure. But, and he knew House would mock him if he admitted it, Wilson also felt happy for his friend. As many problems as Wilson had had with relationships, he had known some happiness in his life – each time when he was newly married, with Amber certainly, and even when he'd first got back together with Sam.

Wilson thought House had never really known happiness before. Sure, House had had the five years with Stacy, but Wilson never knew if House was actually content during that time, or just pleased to be getting mentally challenged and to be getting sex on a regular basis that he didn't have to pay for.

Wilson was also pretty sure that the way they had broken up, and gotten back together, briefly, had been nothing but brutal and excruciating. Whatever pleasure House had received from his relationship with Stacey had surely been destroyed, certainly by the second time House had pushed her away.

And then there was Cuddy. There had once been some spark between House and Cuddy, Wilson was convinced, but House hadn't been ready or able to really do anything about it until after Mayfield.

And Cuddy, well, Wilson simply didn't know what had happened to his former friend in the last couple of years. He'd known how badly she wanted a baby, and maybe the miscarriages, along with losing the first baby she had wanted to adopt that the birth mother took back, had done something to make her unravel.

In any case, after she'd started fostering Rachel, she was simply off the wall. The thing that bothered Wilson the most now was that he had just accepted it. Because Cuddy could hold down a responsible job, be a contentious homeowner, and keep a small child fed and clothed, Wilson had assumed she was the responsible one and House was the crazy one.

Honestly, they'd each had their respective reputations for years, and Wilson wasn't smart enough or aware enough to notice that they were gradually switching roles. House was becoming the sane one (more or less) and Cuddy's behavior was becoming more and more irrational.

Even though Wilson had missed that part of the equation, he'd at least defended House after Cuddy had tried to buy the condo with Lucas. Cuddy had deliberately chosen Bonnie, the worst realtor in New Jersey, just hoping she would tell Wilson.

When Bonnie hadn't allowed herself to be used, Cuddy thought she'd try to enlist Wilson directly by telling him. He could still feel anger surge through him when he remembered the incident. And then, when he'd bought the condo and Lucas had gotten mad, and scary, Cuddy did nothing about it.

Wilson still felt stupid for allowing Lucas to guilt and to frighten him into not going to Cuddy after Lucas tripped House. Wilson always held the belief, perhaps naively, that if Cuddy were directly confronted with what happened, she would do something.

Then again, she'd completely ignored every warning she'd received about House's drinking and ibuprofen usage, and she'd been, putting the best possible spin on it, oblivious to Lucas's harassment of House and Ann, all of which led to her downfall.

How badly Wilson had misread what was going on was very unsettling to him. House had always told him he was clueless, and Wilson was, for the first time, considering that House was right.

And, Ann had apparently seen it all of it right away. Of course, she had a completely fresh perspective, which, no doubt made it easier. Still, she was obviously a very perceptive woman.

So, did that mean she was right about Wilson needing therapy and meds? Wilson's self-image was such that he didn't mind taking a few pills for depression, but, beyond that, he really didn't want to deal with it. Maybe it was anything that reminded him of Danny.

Or, maybe it was, as House put it, his "pathological need to be liked." Did he really care so much about what other people thought of him that he was willing to risk his mental health and his happiness? Wilson didn't know, but it was certainly something to discuss with his new therapist at his first appointment in January.

While Ann and House had been watching TV, Wilson had been off in his own little world. It took him a few minutes to realize he was hearing a ringing phone - House's cell, to be more precise.

House put the TV on mute

"Hi, Mom," House began. "Merry Christmas to you, too . . . what . . . no, of course I'm not alone . . . yes, Wilson's here, and so are Ann and David - you know, your daughter-in-law and your grandson . . . she doesn't go to see her family in December . . . because the weather and the driving can be crappy . . . Mom, as bizarre as this may seem to you, my wife wants to be with her husband on holidays . . . no, Mom, that is not a smart remark about Dad being away on . . . yes, I know he had no choice . . . Mom, just forget it, will you . . . I don't suppose it would make you feel any better to know that I never missed him on holidays because he was such a tight-ass that he was incapable of enjoying anything anyway . . . yes, Mom, you know I'm right about that . . . yes, we can agree to disagree . . . I love you, too, Mom . . . bye."

House turned off the phone.

"Well, that was painful," Wilson remarked.

"Just wait until my family calls," Ann stated matter-of-factly. "That'll be less fun than having a root canal without novocain."

House didn't make any comments, either about Blythe or Ann's family, but Wilson noticed House pull Ann even closer to him.

They went back to watching the movie. Within the half-hour, Ann's cell rang.

She pulled away from House to get the phone out of her pocket. She moved to stand up when House surprised her by pulling her back towards him. He engulfed her in his arms as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Mom." House could feel her body stiffen. He began to stroke her arm. "Merry Christmas . . . glad to hear you're doing well . . . I'm good – I'm sure Kathy did a great job on your Christmas Eve dinner . . . Mom, you should see David, he's so beautiful, he has the bluest eyes . . . I know Joe has blue eyes, too, but I think David takes after Greg . . . Greg is his father, Mom, and my husband . . . sure, put him on . . . Hi, Joe . . . sorry that Kathy had a cold last week . . . we're good now . . . when David was born, I was quite sick . . . oh, okay, I know you don't want to be up too late . . . talk to you later."

Ann hung up the phone and slid it on the coffee table. House pulled her close again.

"Is everything okay?" Wilson asked after a few moments.

"It'll be fine once the effect of the emotional vampires wears off," House replied. He continued to hold Ann and rub her arm. He started to place soft kisses on her hair, and then he bent down to kiss her face.

House's ministrations seemed to be having an effect. Ann looked up at him. "Thanks, baby," she murmured as she gave him a whisper-soft kiss against his lips and rested her head on his shoulder.

House turned the sound back up on the TV and they watched for a while.

Wilson was distinctly uncomfortable, having just witnessed the last two phone calls. He knew House and his Mom weren't in contact most of the time - that was one of the reasons she had asked Wilson to bring House to his father's funeral. (Wilson decided that after everything that had happened since, he really didn't want to dwell on the method he and Cuddy used.) He hadn't realized how distant they had become.

"House, what's going on with you and your mother?" Wilson inquired.

"What do you mean?" House asked in response.

"Well, judging from your side of the phone call, it seemed there was a little hostility or at least some conflict."

"Let's just say I'm tired of pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That everything is just wonderful and we never had any problems and that my childhood didn't suck because my father was an okay guy."

"You mean he wasn't?"

"Tomorrow is my first Christmas with my son, Wilson. My idea of celebrating that fact isn't to spend the night before regaling you with tales of John's abuse."

"Abuse?"

"Wilson – "

"You drop that bombshell and you expect me to just let it go?"

"Greg said he doesn't want to talk about it now," Ann interjected. "So, please let it go."

"Tell you what, Wilson. Pick a Friday in January to come over and I'll spill my proverbial guts. Maybe there'll be a game on so we can do some male bonding afterward. I bet if you're really nice, Ann will even make snacks."

"Wings, chips and dip, and maybe a veggie platter," Ann suggested

"You know I hate veggies," House made a face.

"Yeah, but he might like them," Ann gestured to Wilson.

"Fine," Wilson said, unable to hide the irritation in his voice at their obvious sarcasm.

"Before you get an urge to dig into my family history," Ann spoke preemptively, "Here's the short version: my Dad loved me, my mother loved my brother and merely tolerated me, after my Dad died, my mother liked me even less. I'm not sure why. Anyway, she went to my first wedding but not my second, and she and my brother have never seen David, which is just fine with me. Children should only be around family that actually cares about them."

"She went to your wedding with Kevin?" House asked.

"She really didn't have any choice. It was when we all still lived in Schenectady, and how would it look to her friends if they found out she couldn't be bothered to go to her own daughter's wedding?"

"I bet that was fun."

"It was awful. She had nothing to say about anything, no positive comments at all. The only thing she did ask was why my matron of honor was so fat."

"What a charmer."

"Now you know why I didn't invite her to our wedding."

"Good riddance, Elvira."

There was a pause.

"What?" House asked Wilson. "Aren't you going to tell us how wonderful and functional your family is?"

"Yeah," Wilson said, "Nothing like a schizophrenic son who winds up homeless and lost for twenty years, and another son who's a three-time loser to make parents proud."

"Does that mean your other brother is normal?" House asked with a sneer.

"As far as I know," Wilson said. "Not that I'm any judge . . . "

"Oh, please," Ann said with exasperation.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"Stop the martyr act," Ann replied.

"But," House interjected, "He's _so_ good at it."

"I'm sorry that you consider my family's problems to be trivial," Wilson sniffed.

"I never said that," Ann responded, "I just meant that you should stop trying to sound like you're unique. We all have our family demons to battle."

"Yes, but – " Wilson argued.

"Let me guess," Ann countered, "Your family's dysfunction is worse?"

"Well – " Wilson began.

"God," Ann interrupted him, obviously exasperated. "What is it about men and competitiveness? It makes you want to win the most perverse contests. Who can have the worst luck? Who has the most screwed-up family? Why would you want to win any of that?"

"When you put it that way, it does sound kind of dumb," Wilson admitted.

"Of course it does," Ann agreed. "Look, I'm not trying to minimize the obvious pain you and your family have gone through. I just think it helps anyone's perspective to step back a little and acknowledge that other people have problems, too."

"Which narcissists have difficulty doing?" Wilson inquired with a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes," Ann returned the smile.

"Well, now that we've gotten through the painful obligatory family-holiday contact for another season," House interjected, "And we've decided Wilson is a narcissist and has as screwed up a family as everyone else, can we please get back to the movie?"

"Yes, dear," Ann replied.

Ann was the first to go to bed, seeing as she'd have to get up at 2 a.m. to feed David. House followed shortly afterward, faking yawns and feigning fatigue. At least that's what Wilson thought. Wilson really didn't mind. He thought that if he had a hot-looking woman in his bed who wanted to engage in some sort of sexual activity, he wouldn't be wasting any time getting there, either.

What did bother Wilson was that no one was waiting for him. At least there was no one who cared about him as much as Ann cared about House. Wilson still wasn't sure how House had managed it, but, he had, and Wilson wanted it, too. More fodder for the new therapist, Wilson thought as he climbed into bed in the guest room.


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs

Even though the bed was warm and comfortable, Wilson woke up fairly early on Christmas Day. It could have been the unfamiliar surroundings, or, that he missed Sarah's daily ritual of climbing on the bed and stretching, then kneading his legs through the blanket trying to get him up to get her some food. But, whatever the reason, he was awake at six.

He decided to take a shower. He had clean clothes thanks to his preparedness. Wilson had a lot of patients he had frequent contact with who were in the habit of "appreciating" him by displaying all the side effects of their therapy and regularly tossing on some part of him and his clothes.

After all these years, he'd taken to keeping three changes of clothes in a duffel bag in his car. It would probably be difficult for a radiologist to believe, but, even with that preparation, there had been days when Wilson still left the hospital in scrubs. And, rarely, but it did happen, his second set of those.

In any case, Wilson was all set to spend a weekend at someone's place.

He had retrieved his bag the previous night after everyone went to bed. It had been snowing for a while, and Wilson was glad he didn't have to drive home on what looked like some pretty slippery roads.

The one thing Wilson did need was towels. He remembered Ann told him there were some in the linen closet outside the master bedroom. Wilson slipped down the hall as quietly as he could to avoid waking anyone.

Wilson opened the door to the closet, thankful that it didn't squeak. He hadn't noticed that the door to the master bedroom was ajar. The way the doors were situated, Wilson could look through the crack of the door to the closet, through the open part of the bedroom door and see pretty much everything that was happening in House and Ann's bed.

He was actually pretty focused on finding towels at first. Of course, the closet was organized, so Ann must have set it up, but there were a few things out of place. No doubt House had either put away laundry or, more likely, had taken things out looking for a towel himself and put them back haphazardly. Anyway, Wilson finally found a bath sheet and a smaller towel for his hair. He was about to step back out of the closet when he heard a noise.

It was a small sound - a soft, sucking noise. Wilson recognized it as a sound he had heard before – the baby was nursing. Now, Wilson, as he had reassured House, had seen dozens of women's breasts during the years of his practice, not to mention the fairly decent number he had encountered in his private life, but, still, being a guy (despite what House told everyone), his testosterone wouldn't let him pass up the opportunity to look at some more, and from what he remembered, a couple of really nice ones at that.

So, he glanced through the openings in the adjacent doors, expecting to see Ann sitting up in bed, nursing David, while House slept on his side of the bed. What Wilson wasn't expecting was what he saw - a naked Ann, holding a baby wearing only a diaper, and, an equally naked House sitting behind her with his body wrapped around both of them.

Wilson blinked, just to make sure that his eyes were focusing properly, and they were. He considered for a moment that he was still in bed, dreaming, but his back felt its usual morning stiffness, and he could smell the fabric softener in the towels he was holding, neither of which would be true if he were in a dream. So, this was actually happening.

He probably should have walked away at that moment, but he was transfixed. Here was his best friend, the man who had walled himself off from humanity for years, who Wilson always thought hated to be touched, making total to skin-to skin contact with his wife and child. He was drinking it in the way Wilson had seen him suck down bourbon.

Not that Ann was unenthusiastic, either. She cuddled the baby to her breast, as one would expect of a loving mother, but she also took notice of her husband – leaning back against him, kissing his throat and the side of his neck, and rubbing the side of her face against his.

That particular gesture was amazing because of the look on her face when she did it – it was nothing short of rapture. If Wilson had harbored any doubts at that point about how much Ann loved House, they were shattered in a million pieces. The look on her face told the whole story – she adored him, pure and simple.

Wilson wasn't sure how long he had been staring at them – it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes - when he started to feel uncomfortable. Grasping his towels, he carefully closed the door to the linen closet and headed toward his room.

He was still thinking about his discomfort as he eased himself into the shower. He hadn't really seen much – the view of Ann's breasts was blocked by the baby, and Ann and House's lower regions were under the blankets. In any case, Wilson had seen plenty of naked patients, not to mention naked women; he was pretty relaxed around the unclothed human form.

So, what was it that had made him feel like such a voyeur? It wasn't like he'd stumbled upon House and Ann having sex. Even if he had, Wilson doubted it would have had this effect on him. He'd had enough sex and seen enough porn that sex, while it still interested him greatly, certainly didn't shock him at this point in his life. So, what was it that had him so unsettled?

Wilson continued to wash his body and then shampoo his hair. It finally occurred to him what it was. It was the intimacy of the scene. The baby, of course, was completely open, as all babies are. But, the tenderness, the naked vulnerability that both Ann and House were displaying was remarkable. There was no one coming upon that scene that wouldn't be convinced they trusted and loved each other completely.

Wilson turned off the shower, stepped out and dried himself off. He didn't have his blow dryer, but that was just as well since he didn't want either to announce he was awake or, if they'd gone back to sleep, to wake up House. Now that he was wearing his hair shorter, it really didn't need that much done to it, anyway, he thought as he ran a brush through it while looking in the bathroom mirror.

Wilson stared at his reflection. He wasn't exactly happy with what he saw. House really couldn't call him the "boy wonder oncologist" any more. The years of neglecting himself and his relationships for his patients and for House were beginning to show on his face. Well, at least House didn't need him that way any more, both because of Ann and because, Wilson was happy to admit, House was just less screwed-up.

And if Wilson was at all honest with himself, his patients didn't really need him that much, either. He was a department head, and he shouldn't be having as much patient contact as he did. It was just something he was used to. When he'd first become a department head, he was so worried that he'd fail, he kept up with his practice just so his skills wouldn't get rusty, and he'd be able to go back to practicing medicine.

Now that he had been successful as head of his department for so long, it really wasn't necessary for him to be treating so many patients himself. But, he liked interacting with the patients and the feeling of being needed. And, of course, as his relationships disintegrated, the demands of his patients provided the perfect excuse to avoid dealing with his problems.

And, he was forced to admit to himself, dealing with House provided the same escape. Now that House didn't need him nearly as much, Wilson wondered if he should look at the way he practiced medicine, too. He could certainly move some of his patients to other doctors in his department.

That would free up more time for his administrative duties. Unlike House, he didn't hate doing that stuff. However, that would mean he would have more time on nights and weekends. Wilson surprised himself when he realized his first reaction to that possibility was apprehension, even dread.

What was he afraid of? Being lonely because he would be spending too much time with his cat? Or of falling into another relationship that started out full of promise, but was somehow doomed to fail? Wilson suspected it was a little of both. At that moment, it dawned on Wilson that he just didn't know how to be happy. He'd been trying for most of his life, but he just couldn't seem to get there.

Certainly not like House had. Wilson didn't want to be jealous, but he couldn't help it. He'd tried all his life to please everyone one. He was charming, friendly, helpful, and nice. Or, at least that was his reputation. He had assiduously cultivated this image for years. And yet, what had it gained him?

His professional life was okay, other than the burnout he sometimes felt. Well, that was the nature of his specialty, he supposed. Although, always pretending everything was fine probably didn't help. And would he really be a less effective doctor if he wasn't always kind and sweet? It certainly hadn't hurt House's reputation or his practice to be a prick.

And being charming and nice had done less than nothing for his personal life. He was forty years old, with three failed marriages and nothing new or promising in sight. And, even if he were to meet someone tomorrow, would he know how to keep that from eventually crashing and burning? Maybe if it were another woman like Amber, it would work.

Amber. Why was her ghost still hovering beside him? Ann had said something to him about this. What if he'd had the chance to have a long-term relationship with Amber? Would it really have lasted, or would it have ended like everything else? With his track record, it was certainly a possibility, in spite of how different she was from anyone else he had ever been with.

And it didn't matter at this point, anyway. She was gone, and he was wasting his life on "what ifs." Amber would have laughed at him for doing that. Wilson knew in his head, and had known for a long time, that it was past the point of moving on. Now, if he could just get his heart to do the same thing. Well, that was what therapy was for, wasn't it?

While he was thinking these deep thoughts, Wilson had gotten dressed and was sitting in a chair in his room. He slowly became aware of the smell of bacon frying. Someone must be up, and they were starting breakfast. He made his way to the kitchen.

Ann was cooking at the stove, and House was sitting at the table, giving David a bottle.

"I thought you were breast-feeding," Wilson remarked.

"Oh, it was just too much trouble with my work schedule," House replied with mock earnestness, "And I hated the way my tits got all sore and saggy."

"I pump and keep some in the refrigerator," Ann smiled at House. "Then I get to share the feeding duties with Greg."

Wilson waited for more sarcasm from House about this "sharing," but none was forthcoming. Instead, House watched intently as the baby took the bottle, leaning down every so often to kiss David on the forehead.

That was another surprise for Wilson. House as a devoted, loving father. Although, if Wilson thought about it, most of the patients that House was able to tolerate were children. Wilson didn't really know why. Maybe they hadn't had the chance to become idiots yet.

"Can I help with anything?" Wilson offered.

"I'm just about done," Ann replied. "Have a seat."

Wilson sat across from House.

"That's Annie's chair," House proclaimed.

"Sorry," Wilson jumped up. "Where should I sit?"

"Greg, stop playing head games with him, will you? This isn't grade school and there are no assigned seats," Ann said in a mildly irritated voice. She directed her next comment to Wilson, "You can sit any where you want to."

"But, how will I stare lovingly into the bottomless depths of your emerald orbs if you're not sitting across from me?" House inquired, his voice dripping with fake romanticism.

"Like you'll even look up from your food once the plate is in front of you," Ann snorted.

"Hey, just my way of appreciating the chef," House countered.

Wilson sat down in the seat he'd originally selected, just to annoy House, who gave him a glare in return.

They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, passing the baby around. Wilson wound up with him as Ann finished cleaning up and she and House headed for their bedroom to shower and get dressed.

Wilson went to the living room and sat down, still holding the baby. He could have sworn he heard some load moaning coming from the bathroom attached to the master bedroom, accompanied by what sounded like a series of pounding noises. He did his best to ignore it and focus on the baby.

David had his eyes open and was looking around. They were intensely blue and wore a look of curiosity.

"You do look so much like your father," Wilson spoke to the baby, realizing that David couldn't really understand him at this point, but not really caring all that much. Wilson had the urge to check something. Sure enough, on the back of David's head, just at the hairline, there was a small, strawberry-colored birthmark.

Ann and House entered the living room just as Wilson was examining it.

"Yep," House stated, "It wasn't the mailman. I'm definitely his father."

Wilson blushed. "I think he needs a change. The table is in his bedroom, right?"

Wilson got up with David and headed toward the room.

"Be careful he doesn't spray you," Ann warned.

"I used to change my nephew," Wilson called out over his shoulder as he left the room, "I know all about it."

"What was that stuff about the mailman?" Ann asked.

"Wilson was checking to see if David has the same birthmark I do."

"How did he know about that?"

"I told him that's one of the ways I figured out that John wasn't my father and who my biological father is."

"And this just came up in casual conversation one day?"

"It was on the way to John's funeral."

"He went with you to your father's funeral?"

"He, well, um . . . "

"What?"

"I didn't want to go for obvious reasons, but my Mom wanted me to. After I refused, Cuddy drugged me and she and Wilson put me in his car and took me."

"You know, I guess nothing should surprise me at this point, but I just can't wrap my head around this. Taking you, against your will, to your father's funeral?"

"In all fairness, I hadn't told either of them about the abuse."

"Okay, but even if there had been no abuse, they had to know that you didn't get along with him, that you hated each other. What gave them the right to do that?"

"Nothing, really. But, at the time I didn't care. Wilson left after Amber died. He said he didn't blame me, which was good, I guess, but, then he said he wasn't sure we were friends or that we had ever been friends. So, when he came back to take me, I guess I thought it was a way for me to win him back. So, I went along with it, mostly. And he did come back and we were friends again. Pretty much, I think."

"Oh baby." Ann crossed the room and put her arms around House. She pulled him close and held him as tightly as she could.

Wilson came back into the room, carrying David. He must have heard their conversation over the monitor. "House, do you have any idea the number of nights I've been in bed, unable to sleep, wishing I could take that back? I'm so, so sorry."

Ann wanted to be angry at Wilson; she wanted to kick his ass to the curb and tell him never to set foot in her home again, and to stay away from her husband. But, when House pulled away from her and she saw the look on his face, she knew she couldn't. She kissed House on the cheek, got up and took the baby from Wilson. She gave him a warning glance as she headed for the kitchen.

"I've waited three years for you to say that, Wilson. What took you so long?"

"I didn't want you to mock me and tell me to go to hell. Or, even worse, tell me it didn't matter."

"Well, it doesn't, at least not now."

"Yes, it does. I was in so much pain I didn't know what I was doing. I needed somehow to try to make sense of it. And if I blamed myself, and made it about me enabling you, then if I could get away from you it would be okay."

"But you did enable me."

"Sometimes. And sometimes I just got tired and neglected you. Or, I tossed you aside for the newest woman in my life. In any case, my enabling you wasn't why she died."

"If I hadn't been at the bar and called you – "

"She could have told you to leave her alone and to get a cab."

"She just decided to be helpful."

"Why? She was raised to be a good Catholic girl, and yet she would have had no trouble telling the Pope to go to hell. Why didn't she just tell you to deal with it yourself?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. And why did she decide she had to follow you on to the bus?"

"I forgot my cane – "

"Which she very easily could have picked up, brought home, and given to me to bring to work for you the next day. Or, left the damn thing there and gone home, even."

"The accident – "

"Yeah, why did the garbage truck driver hit the bus? Was he impaired? Was he sick? Was he exhausted? I wasn't allowed to see the accident report because I wasn't either on the bus or a family member of someone who was, so I have no idea."

"The Amantadine – "

"Why was her job so damn important that she couldn't take a couple of days off to recover from the flu? Why was she prescribed that drug and not one dialysis could remove from her blood?"

"You have thought a lot about this . . . "

"I lost the woman I loved, the one I probably had the best chance of being happy with, and I almost lost my best friend, and you think I wouldn't think about this? Agonize over it?"

"You came back."

"Of course I did. Even as I was saying we were never friends, something inside me knew it wasn't true. And the more time I had to myself to think about it, the worse I felt. But, I didn't know how to fix it."

"So, when my mom called – "

"It was an opportunity."

"Did she really tell you to drag me to his funeral?"

"Not literally, no. She didn't know we weren't . . . she didn't know I'd left. She just asked me to talk to you and persuade you to go."

"Some pretty strong persuasion . . . "

"About half-way through it, I knew it was wrong, but I was committed. And I wanted the chance to talk to you."

"You've never heard of a cell phone?"

"Would you have even spoken to me? You had every right to tell me to fuck off. I didn't want to take the chance that you would."

"But I wouldn't have. I was practically stalking you."

"And using Lucas so I wouldn't know."

"I couldn't risk doing it myself. I couldn't risk hearing you tell me to get out of your life again."

Well, there it was. House admitting that Wilson had hurt him. Hurt him so much that he just couldn't take any more rejection.

"House, we're two of the biggest idiots to walk the planet. All that pain for no reason."

"There was a reason, actually." Ann had returned to the living room with David. She put him in his carrier.

"What was it?" House asked.

"You were afraid," Ann replied.

"But we're shouldn't have been," Wilson said.

"Why not? Because you have to be charming and nice and perfect?" Ann gestured to Wilson, "And because you have to be tough and a loner and not need anyone?" Ann looked at House. "Guess what? You're both as vulnerable and as scared as the rest of us mere mortals. Welcome to the human race."

There was silence as each man processed what the other had said and what Ann had concluded.

"Hey, it's Christmas," Ann noted. "Anybody want to open presents?"

"You're sure you don't want me to get the hell out of here and never come back?" Wilson questioned Ann.

"Honestly," Ann responded "When I heard about what you and Doctor Cuddy did to make Greg go to his father's funeral, I certainly did. But, then I heard what else you said and I think I understand a little better what was going on. Not that I'm saying you should even think about doing anything like that again."

"Not to worry," Wilson held up his hands in front of his face in a gesture of denial.

"Good," Ann stated emphatically.

"Presents?" House asked. "I want to see what Santa left for the Jew."

"Nothing, I'm sure," Wilson said. "What did David get?"

"I get to open his presents, not you," House huffed irritably.

"I'm not trying to usurp your parental rights, House," Wilson groused back.

"Parental rights?" Ann scoffed. "It's nothing that responsible or mature. He's just a big kid himself who likes to open presents."

"That sounds about right," Wilson agreed.

"No, it doesn't," House insisted.

"Yes, it does," Wilson countered.

"No, it doesn't, times a thousand," House returned the volley and then stuck out his tongue.

"Let's just see what we have here." Ann interjected, attempting to put things back on track. She bent down to retrieve a wrapped package. She handed it to House.

"Whoa, David, this is way cool," House announced as the paper fell away and he tried to act surprised. He held up a tiny "Black Sabbath" t-shirt, replete with a skull with bleeding eyeballs.

"Seriously?" Ann questioned. "I can't even imagine where 'Santa' found that."

"I have it on good authority that Santa has become a major e-Bay shopper in recent years," House noted.

"I don't suppose Santa could have purchased an educational toy instead?" Ann questioned.

"This is educational," House informed her. "It will help him learn about classic heavy metal bands."

"Oh, well, in that case . . . " Ann's voice trailed off as she rolled her eyes.

"Next," House insisted.

Ann handed him another present.

House turned the package toward the baby to see if he might look at it for a few seconds.

Once the paper was off, House asked, "What is this?"

"It's a toy," Ann clarified. "He puts the blocks in the spaces in the correct sequence, all in the same color, and it plays music for him."

"What music?" House asked. "Muddy Waters?"

"_Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_," Ann replied, "And _Bis Du Bei Mir_, Water Music, _Eroica_, the Ode to Joy, _Figaro_, and even _Beatus Vir_."

"_Beatus Vir_?" Wilson asked. He hadn't known any of the other music Ann had mentioned , either, but this was the last thing she'd said, and, as a result, he thought the odds were lowest he would embarrass himself repeating that phrase rather than trying to remember the others.

"It's the musical setting by Monteverdi of a psalm," Ann replied.

"Sounds pretty religious to me," House interjected. "You're not trying to convert my son, are you?"

"I'm an atheist, as you well know. And, if you refuse to listen to religious music," Ann noted, "You have to spurn almost everything that was composed in Europe between 800 and about 1800 A.D, including Gregorian Chants, Monteverdi, Telemann, Handel, Vivaldi, some Mozart, and just about all of Bach. No conversions. I just want him to understand his musical heritage."

"I guess that's okay, then," House conceded. "Any more presents for David?"

Ann handed House several more packages, which turned out to be a musical play mat, another t-shirt that said, "Daddy's Little Biker," and a portable DVD player with a DVD that was supposed to help babies fall asleep.

The last two items, it turned out, were from one "Uncle James," and Ann had to admit, they were very thoughtful for both David and his parents.

House wanted to open his presents next, but Ann made him wait.

"I know you don't celebrate Christmas," Ann told Wilson, "And this can't even be a New Year's thing because your New Year was three months ago, so early Happy Purim."

"Thanks," Wilson said with a smile as he opened the three envelopes. He was greatly surprised with their contents – three $1,000 contributions made in the name of James Wilson, MD to The Jimmy Fund, The Susan G. Komen Foundation, and The American Cancer Society.

"House," Wilson croaked – he was having a hard time speaking because he was so moved, "What an amazing gift."

"Don't look at me," House stated. "I would have given you Monster Truck tickets. This was all Annie."

"Thank you," Wilson said as he walked over to Ann and hugged her.

"Get your hands off my woman," House growled.

"I've seen how she looks at you, House," Wilson said. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Ann just seemed like she felt a little awkward. "Let's just move on to Greg's presents, okay?"

"Finally!" House exclaimed.

House's "swag," as he insisted upon calling it, consisted of another $500 gift certificate for apps for House's i-phone from Ann, some very violent Playstation games from Wilson, and a t-shirt for a concert tour of Fine Young Cannibals from David. House made a point of kissing David profusely to thank him for his e-bay shopping skills as well as his knowledge of the truly cool bands of the nineties.

Ann was about to go to the kitchen to get started on some things for dinner when House held her back.

"You didn't think we'd forget you?" House asked rhetorically.

"I wasn't really expecting anything," Ann admitted.

"Why not?" House asked, puzzled.

"I don't know," Ann replied. "It's tough to come up with ideas for gifts, and it's been kind of busy and crazy lately and . . . "

"You thought I couldn't come up with something you would like?" House asked. He was trying to sound analytical, like he was working to solve the puzzle of his wife's behavior, but he couldn't stop a little hurt from creeping in.

Ann heard the pain. "It's not you, it's me. I'm not easy to shop for. I don't need anything except you and David and the rest of my family."

"This isn't about need, and you know it," House told her. "Okay, what happened?"

"What?" Ann questioned, completely confused. "Nothing happened."

"When you were a kid, I mean."

"You know how much I loved my dad . . . "

"But?"

"Well, he was wonderful to me in so many ways. The ways that really mattered. But, he wasn't really good at gift shopping, so he didn't do it."

"And, let me guess, your mom did buy you things, but they were always either something she should have known you hated, or something passive-aggressive, like a skateboard when you had a broken leg. So, receiving gifts became, at best, awkward, and at worst, painful."

"I should have known you'd figure it out."

"I am a genius, after all."

"Yes, you are."

There was a slight pause.

"No aggression here, Annie, passive or otherwise. I love you unconditionally and completely."

"I know that, baby."

"So, open your damn presents, will you?"

"Yes, dear."

House handed her a rectangular box about eighteen inches long and six inches wide. She tore away the paper and opened it. There were three large mugs, white with a hand-made design. There was some handwriting on it as well. It said, "David, 2011."

"His hand and footprints, how cool!" Ann exclaimed. Actually, Ann thought it was utterly adorable, but she didn't want to upset House by telling him that, especially in front of Wilson. "Did he cry much when you did it?"

"A little, at first. I think the paint was cold," House informed her. "But once I warmed it under hot water, he actually seemed to like it. I think he laughed when I painted the bottoms of his feet with the brush."

Ann couldn't help but smile when she pictured the scene. Both House's care with his son and his delight at the way David reacted.

"May I ask you something? Why are there three of them?"

"One for you, one for me, and one for the archive."

"Archive?"

"No one who is as controlling as you are wouldn't save a little bit of everything for her child."

"Hey, I let them take the placenta."

"Can we move on, please?" Wilson implored; this was definitely too much information.

"Okay," House reluctantly agreed. He handed Ann an envelope.

She opened it. "More pedicures? Greg, I think this is a waste. I haven't used a couple from last year."

"I noticed."

"Sorry. I just haven't had the time."

"Make the time."

"The baby – "

"Aren't we paying a nanny a substantial amount of money to watch said baby?"

"Only when I'm at work."

"That's a rule you made up somewhere, but, fine. What about me watching the baby, then?"

"You'll have case . . . "

"On a weekend, not likely. But even if I do, what about Danielle?"

"I can't take advantage of her for this."

"I don't know why not, but, then, how about Wilson?"

"I'm not sure . . . "

"Why is this such a big deal?"

"It isn't. It just seems so frivolous to me. Why are you pushing this?"

"It's entirely selfish, I assure you."

"How is my taking time to indulge myself selfish for you?"

"It's just . . . dammit . . . I miss your popsicle toes!"

"Oh . . . "

"If I promise to come over and watch David, can we stop talking about this, please?" Wilson begged.

"As long as you promise to leave when she gets back," House replied.

"As fast as I can," Wilson reassured House.

"Well, I need to start dinner now," Ann insisted.

"Just one more small present, okay?" House questioned as he pulled out a velvet box.

"Oh, Greg," Ann said breathlessly. "I'm not sure I can find someplace to wear whatever this is."

"Do you think you could you bother to look at it before you reject it?"

Ann heard the hurt underneath the sarcasm of House's words. "I'm so sorry, baby. That was unkind of me."

"Yeah, yeah, just open it."

Ann untied the ribbon around the box and opened it using the hinge. She took one look and her eyes began to water. "So beautiful," she whispered.

House pulled it from the box. He fell on his left knee. "I never got you an engagement ring, and I wanted to do something about that. I hope it's not too late. Annie, will you marry me?"

"Greg, I . . . " Ann paused. She remembered that she had asked House to marry her. This was his chance to do the same. Even though it was totally unnecessary, she loved him so much she couldn't refuse.

The ring itself was gorgeous. A huge emerald, almost four carats, surrounded by diamonds.

"The first time I looked in your eyes, I thought of the emerald in the Topkapi Palace. This isn't anywhere near as large, but – "

The tears started to fall in earnest then. Ann held out a shaking hand as House slid it on her finger. Ann was well beyond words now. The room was quiet other than her soft hiccups.

Ann looked at House's face, and, even through her tears she knew he wanted an answer. He was beseeching her with his eyes.

"I will proudly, happily be Mrs. Gregory House for the rest of my life," Ann stated breathlessly. She took House's expectant face in her hands and kissed him with the most passion she was capable of. House returned it in equal measure.

After they finished the kiss, House held out his hands to her. Ann gently pulled him up until he was sitting on the couch beside her. They wrapped their arms around each other and pressed the sides of their faces together.

The way they were situated on the couch, Ann was turned away from Wilson, so he couldn't see her face. However, House's face was completely visible. His expression was the most astonishing thing Wilson had seen, in a weekend of the unexpected.

House looked - Wilson had no other word to describe it – joyful. The man who said that the only emotional state he could achieve was miserable was actually happy. And the fact that House was totally unselfconscious about letting Wilson see it was doubly remarkable.

They held each other for a few moments until David started to fuss.

"I'll feed him before I start to work on dinner," Ann said as she picked him up and pulled up her shirt.

House put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side. Whether it was a gesture of affection or as a means of blocking the view of Ann's breast Wilson wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. The three were the picture of contentment.

"There's some space here on the couch if you'd like to sit with us," Ann noted.

Wilson's first inclination was to refuse, but he didn't want to upset the delicate truce he and Ann had achieved. He moved over and sat down near Ann and the baby. It was weird, but he didn't feel like he expected he would. He wasn't an interloper.

Wilson couldn't help but wonder why. It took him only a short time to come up with the answer. One thing both House and Ann had in common was the feeling of being an outsider, even (especially) in their own families. Apparently, this was something they didn't want to inflict upon anyone else, even, in Ann's case, when she had doubts about the person involved. All Wilson knew was that he felt truly welcome, for the first time in a long while.

He enjoyed the rest of the weekend and returned to work on Tuesday morning. He was actually not dreading his upcoming therapy appointment. Time for some changes, he thought hopefully.

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have Christmas in May. I had planned to include New Year's in this chapter, but the Wilson musings sort of got away from me. The next chapter will feature, among other things, House and Ann's first post-baby intercourse - smut alert! And Danielle and Chase will be having an interesting evening, too. So, stay tuned.


	63. Chapter 63

A/N: I just don't know what to say about the season finale, other than, even though it's been done to death on the show, that whole episode had better be an hallucination. Otherwise, they've just made House into a psychopath. And, I refuse to let them do that to my beloved Gregory House.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own House, but David Shore better straighten things out pronto, or I'll be forced to wrest control of House from him by whatever means necessary, and it won't be pretty. (Feel free to PM me if you know the location of his dining room. ;) Oh, and the OCs are still mine.

Chase and Danielle arrived home on the twenty-eighth. They readily agreed to watch David, thinking that a little practice might be a good idea, even though there was "no news."

Ann began to accumulate everything she thought they would need to take. As House watched the growing pile of stuff, he couldn't refrain from commenting that David was a baby who was going to be away for one night, not an eighteen-year-old headed off to a semester at college. Of course, that made Ann think about when David would really be gone for good, and set off a round of tears. House decided that further comment was not a good idea.

Ann had her appointment with her OB/GYN on the thirtieth and was given the go-ahead for all activities. Ann texted House from the doctor's office to give him the good news, and he almost jumped her in the hallway the moment she got home. They reluctantly decided to wait until New Year's Eve, and made sure the baby was co-sleeping with them that night to help restrain their ardor.

On the morning of New Year's Eve, Ann went out for about three hours, leaving David with House. Even though she returned with groceries, House was a little suspicious. It never took her that long to shop for food. Ann maintained that she rarely had the chance to shop by herself these days, and that she had just decided to enjoy the alone time and take it at a leisurely pace. Her story did not convince House.

Danielle and Chase stopped by to pick up the baby late in the afternoon. It took Chase almost fifteen minutes to pack their car, not including the time it took to install the car seat. House muttered something about overkill, which Chase acknowledged with a look, but Ann and Danielle ignored the remark in favor of Ann providing some "last minute" instructions that took another twenty minutes, with Danielle dutifully taking notes.

House finally interrupted by reminding Ann that Chase was a doctor who had two specialties as an intensivist and as a surgeon, not to mention extensive experience working in the neo-natal intensive care unit. Ann reluctantly let them go after many weepy kisses for David. And, in spite of House's eye rolling at Ann's "clingy" behavior, he managed to get in at least a half-dozen kisses before David left.

Ann and House had decided they would try to cook dinner together. It was a first for them. They had settled on surf and turf, and it seemed with two entrées they could make the division of labor more easily – with House preparing the steaks, of course, and Ann cooking the lobster tails.

Ann made the vegetable – the broccoli and garlic that House had reluctantly admitted he actually liked. House prepared the starch – a brown rice risotto with crimini mushrooms. (House insisted he was using brown rice because it had more flavor, not because it was healthier.) They decided to forego dessert at the meal in favor sparkling apple juice and chocolate-dipped strawberries in front of the TV at midnight. House hoped it was the TV in the master bedroom and they were naked in bed at the time, but he'd take whatever he could get.

The prep went well, even if the kitchen felt a little crowded. Ann and House bumped butts a few times, but there was minimal conflict. Ann thought she didn't like to be reminded of how big her ass was, until House began to caress and squeeze it. She liked that, but she also reminded him not to get distracted and burn the risotto. He reluctantly returned to his cooking duties.

Although they missed David, they did enjoy having a quiet dinner without interruptions. Ann just appreciated the fact that she could eat her food before it got cold. They lingered at the table, talking.

"So, are you ready?" House asked with a leer.

"We're not waiting until midnight?" Ann responded with a question of her own.

"Nope." House was nothing if not succinct.

"Can I clean up first?"

"I guess."

"You could help me, you know. It would make it go faster."

"I need to save my leg."

"You have something planned?"

"Don't get your hopes up; I'm still an old cripple."

"You're not old. And your inability to run a marathon won't matter when we're horizontal."

"Whatever. I have a question."

"Yes?" Ann responded as she got up to put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

"What are we doing about birth control now that we're back to dancing in the sheets? I have some condoms."

"I hate condoms. I hate not being able to feel you."

"Are you going back on the pill?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't make any sense to start taking it, wait the two months it takes to work using other birth control, use it for ten or twelve months, and then have to use another method to get back off of it when we want to start trying again."

"You still want to have another baby?"

"I still want to have another baby _with you_."

There was a part of House that wanted to scoff at that statement. But there was also a part of him that felt surprisingly proud that Ann wanted another child with him. It made him feel loved and wanted, and it also made him feel, he was almost ashamed to admit, quite studly.

House pondered that for a moment. He'd always laughed at those idiots he'd met that thought they were manly men because they had gotten some bimbo knocked up. And yet, if he was at all honest with himself, he had to admit it did make him feel incredibly masculine to have a beautiful, sexy, intelligent women want him to impregnate her. He couldn't explain it; it had to be biology. A biology he had always thought he was smart enough to be above, but, apparently he wasn't. He felt he had to deflect, even as he felt his cock get a little stiffer at the thought.

"Quit stroking my ego," he declared. "And you still haven't answered my question."

"Let's just say that once we're in the bedroom, I'll be wearing three things – a special garment, a diaphragm, and a smile," Ann stated. She had heard House dismiss her indulging his ego, and she also knew there was something else going on, at least judging by the tightness in a certain area of House's pants.

Because Ann loved and respected House so much, it was difficult for her to believe that any woman wouldn't want to have his child. But, House had told her on many occasions that women were not exactly beating down his door for stud services. Ann knew he'd been trying to be funny when he said it, but there was always something underneath it – a sadness, or even a feeling of rejection.

Ann knew that House and Stacy had never even entertained the idea of having a child. Ann didn't' know if it was the nature of the relationship, the fact that they were both so career-focused, or something else. Ann always had the feeling that even though they lived together for five years, House and Stacy were never completely committed to each other. If they had been, it might have been possible for them to survive what happened to House's leg.

Although, Ann thought, if Stacy had truly respected House, she would not have had the surgery done while House was in a coma. Ann had a small amount of compassion for Stacy, and was thankful she hadn't been faced with that decision herself.

Ann still couldn't have authorized the operation on his leg, even knowing that it was a distinct possibly that he would have died without it. It was a violation of House's body, without his consent, and Ann knew all too well from her own bitter experience how damaging that could be.

In any case, Stacy and House never married and never had a child. Ann knew from what House told Shel Ginsberg that Doctor Cuddy had entertained the idea of House fathering her child. Or, at least, House assumed she had. The whole situation was strange, to say the least. Doctor Cuddy had House screen her potential sperm donors, had him give her fertility shots, and approached him to ask for his "services" and then backed off.

Ann could understand perfectly well why Doctor Cuddy had wanted to have a child with House, or, at least, why she wanted House's DNA. What she didn't get was why Cuddy would run away.

Ann thought about the circumstances, and everything she knew about Cuddy, and she came to a realization. Cuddy had never actually cared for House as a person. Her ideal of him - brilliant doctor, tall, muscular, handsome man - were all things that appealed, on paper, at least, to Cuddy. But when confronted with who he actually was – her ideal plus a man with serious physical issues (i.e., the infarction and the damage it had caused), with his addiction, and with his almost crushing physical and emotional pain, she ran in the other direction.

It was like those men who had initially expressed an interest in Ann, only to find out about her alcoholism and the trauma from the rape. Other than her family, only House had truly seen her for who she was and appreciated her, among all the men she had met in the years since the attack.

House had known, almost from the very first, that she was never going to be easy-going or low maintenance, and, yet, he'd taken her on. With enthusiasm and tenderness, and attempting, in his own incredibly intelligent way, to respect her as well as love her.

She'd had every inadequacy and shame she'd ever felt accepted and soothed by this man. She could only hope she'd done something even close to that for him.

"I said," House repeated more insistently, pulling Ann out of her reverie, "A special garment? Is that what took you so long shopping this morning?"

"That was part of it," Ann agreed with a smile.

"There's more?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I don't want to spoil the surprise."

"Come on!"

"Okay, let's just say it's important to have the proper accessories for every outfit and leave it at that."

"Oh, man. Just hurry up, will you?"

* * *

Things went reasonably well on the trip to Chase and Danielle's apartment. Well, it was only fifteen minutes, and David fell asleep in the car. Danielle brought him inside in his carrier along with as many of the items as she could safely carry, while Chase became a packhorse, bringing in most of the stuff. It still took three trips.

Chase didn't know where to start when it came to unpacking. Danielle thought that the playpen with the bed inside it was a good start, in case David decided to sleep most of the night. She hoped.

While Chase worked his way through that, Danielle went to put the bottles in the refrigerator. She had cleared a space in the door for that purpose. Of course, unbeknownst to her, Chase had put several bottles of beer in the space she had made. Cursing under her breath, she had to rearrange another section of the refrigerator to move the beer to, and only then did she have the room to put the bottles away.

Luckily, Ann had included the directions with the playpen. (Chase promised himself that he would apologize to her for what he had been thinking about over-preparation when he was packing the car.) After Chase finally got the playpen up, he looked to the next item.

Danielle had the changing pad and supplies set up in the second bathroom, which, luckily, had a lot of counter space next to the sink. It wouldn't be great to have to stumble in the dark to the bathroom if they had to get up to change David in the middle of the night, but their bathroom was just too cluttered to have a space for the pad, and Danielle didn't want spend all the time it would have taken to straighten it up. Of course, Ann had packed a nightlight, so Danielle plugged it in on the other side of the sink, so David couldn't reach for it and risk getting a shock if he pulled it out and touched the prongs.

"What's this thing?" Chase asked, as he held up a contraption with a metal frame covered in various places with nylon, padding and mesh.

"It's a co-sleeper."

"A what?"

"A co-sleeper thing. You attach it to the side of the bed and you put the baby there when he's sleeping with you so you don't accidentally roll over on him."

"Doesn't that kind of kill your sex life?"

"Yeah. Because the leaky, saggy, incredibly sore breasts, the stretched-beyond-all-recognition-vagina, and the crushing fatigue associated with taking care of an infant aren't enough to do it by themselves."

"Right. Should I put this on the bed?"

"Might as well. You don't want to be fumbling with it in the dark in the middle of the night if we need it."

Chase went into the bedroom and had minimal difficulty installing it.

"Anything else?"

"There are these gates we should set up to make a play area."

"Fine."

That took another fifteen minutes, including Danielle deciding to vacuum that part of the carpet again, to make sure it was as clean as possible. At least everything was set up. Chase and Danielle were looking forward to getting dinner ready when David started to fuss in his carrier.

Chase volunteered to see what David needed, while Danielle started what she hoped would be a quick dinner preparation.

* * *

Ann swiftly finished cleaning up and had House wait in the living room for her to, as she put it, "summon" him.

In a few minutes, House heard Ann calling him. He entered a dark bedroom.

"Take off your clothes," Ann barked. She was rarely this forceful in her requests, and it gave House a little thrill.

He hesitated when he got to his boxers, both because he always did when he was this close to revealing his scar, and because he was already starting to get a serious boner.

"I said _everything_," Ann commanded.

House pulled them down, and kicked them on top of his other abandoned clothes.

"Nice," Ann exclaimed as she touched the end of his penis with something. House didn't know what it was, other than it wasn't her fingers. "Get on the bed, face up."

House complied, and, before he was fully aware of what Ann was doing, she had his wrists and his ankles in some kind of straps. House tried to move, but he couldn't. He was completely restrained and totally at her mercy.

"Don't struggle," Ann advised, getting into her role, "This will be easier for you if you just give in. I'm going to take what I want either way."

With that, Ann turned on the light. It took a couple of moments for House's eyes to adjust. Special garment, indeed. Ann was wearing a black leather corset. It was laced up the sides. The top was cut so that it came just under her breasts, revealing them in all their ample, milky-white beauty, with the nipples peeking out just over the edge. The bottom of the corset stopped at the top of her hips. Below that she was wearing a black-lace garter belt attached to black, nearly transparent hose, and she had not-quite-knee height black boots with about a three-inch spike heel.

House probably would have wondered how Ann was going to walk in those boots, seeing as how she rarely wore anything but sneakers or low-heeled shoes, if he hadn't been so totally aroused by the sight of her and the situation he found himself in. As it was, he was already at full attention.

"Well, someone likes my outfit," Ann smirked, gesturing at House's all too obvious reaction.

Because of his state, it took House another moment to realize Ann was holding a riding crop. Was that what she had used to touch his cock when the room was dark? It was so out of character for her to do anything close to this, he had to make a comment. "Going for the equestrian look, eh?"

"I didn't give you permission to speak," Ann proclaimed harshly, "Let alone be sarcastic. I'll give you one warning. Talk again without my allowing it and you'll get some of this."

Ann brandished the whip and House nodded in agreement. He also felt a jolt in-between his legs. He had no idea why this was so exciting to him. After all the hated punishments he'd received as a kid, this should be a major turn-off.

At that moment, House flashed back to one of the more humiliating episodes of his childhood. He was fourteen, and he'd committed some infraction he couldn't even remember that had somehow angered John. John had him remove his pants, bend over the bed and then he beat him with a belt. When John stopped, House got up from the bed, and they both saw he had an erection.

After House learned more about biology, he realized that his response had to do with confusion in the brain between pain and pleasure, which was exacerbated by the fact that he was a young adolescent who wasn't used to his maturing body yet. In any case, both he and John were so mortified, John never beat him again.

House felt his erection waning. Of course, Ann noticed both that and the distant look on his face.

"What's wrong, Greg?"

"It's nothing," House insisted. He hoped Ann would get back in the mood, so that he could, too.

Ann sat down on the bed, facing away from him. "This is stupid, isn't it? I'm crappy at role playing, and you're upset about something."

"It's not a big deal."

Ann turned to look at him, thinking. "This is something that happened to you, isn't it? Oh, my God, John beat you and here I am tying you up and threatening to do the same thing. I'm such an idiot!"

"No, you're not. You were trying to do something different, something exciting. It's my fault I can't enjoy it."

Ann unzipped and took off her boots. She stood up, untied the corset and slipped out of it. She then removed the garter belt and stockings. She climbed on the bed and slid her arms around House. She rested her chin on his chest and looked him in the eyes. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but what happened?"

"Well," House sighed in resignation, "When I was fourteen, I did something to piss off John, not that that was unusual. He took me to my room, and had me drop my pants and bend over the bed. He brought the belt across my butt an inordinate number of times, as I recall. When he stopped, and I stood up away from the bed, we both saw I had a hard-on. We were both totally embarrassed."

"Oh, baby. You were a young teenager and already not understanding everything that was happening to your body, and then to have _that_ happen, because of something you hated, in front of someone you hated."

"Yep. I didn't know then that the pleasure and pain centers of the brain are close and that it was not an uncommon reaction. But, it was pretty humiliating at the time. I have to say, it wasn't all bad, though."

"What could possibly good about it?"

"After it happened, John was too freaked out to ever beat me again."

Ann pushed up the bed and kissed House tenderly. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

After a few moments, Ann looked up into House's eyes again. She reached down to his backside and began to tenderly caress it. "You have such a beautiful bottom. I just don't understand how he could have hurt you like that."

"I'm sure he thought he was helping me. 'Correcting' my bad behavior, giving me discipline, stuff like that."

"Seriously? I know it's only in the last few years that there have been studies published confirming that people can't think or learn when they are under a lot of stress, like when they are being abused, either physically or verbally. Even if he didn't know about the science then, how much did he honestly think your brain would learn through the beatings on your ass?"

"How much of it was a 'teach me a lesson' thing and how much of it was his own sadism, I have no idea."

"Maybe that's why he was so shocked. It's possible it wasn't just your arousal; he might have been a little excited, too."

"Let's not go there. At least if you ever want me to get it up again."

"Okay."

"Listen," House said, "If we're not going to do the dom-sub thing, can you get me out of these restraints now?"

Ann looked at him thoughtfully as she continued to caress his behind. A wicked grin slowly appeared on her face. "Just because we're not going to do that doesn't mean I don't have other ideas."

A feather seemed to appear out of nowhere in Ann's hand.

"Oh, man," House groaned.

* * *

Chase thought he'd figured out why the baby was crying. David's diaper was full. Chase brought him into the guest bathroom. After at least two squirts in Chase's face (even though Chase should have known better), David was finally changed into a fresh diaper.

David was fine – for about five minutes – and then he started wailing again. Chase did a quick visual and tactile inspection and determined that David wasn't pale or otherwise looking badly, and he had no temperature. Chase decided he must be hungry and took him to the kitchen.

"Dinner's just about ready," Danielle informed Chase.

"It'll have to wait until I feed him," Chase acknowledged as he headed toward the refrigerator to get a bottle. He took off the top and put it in the microwave for a few seconds. "Why don't you eat?"

"Okay," Danielle agreed. She put together a plate while Chase settled into one of the kitchen chairs with the baby.

Danielle ate while Chase held David and fed him.

"This milk . . . " Chase's voice trailed off.

"What about it?" Danielle questioned matter-of-factly.

"Well, it's a little weird."

"In what way?"

"It came out of my boss's wife's body."

"Well, you're a doctor. Surely this isn't a mystery to you."

"It's not so much mysterious, as well, um, I don't know . . . "

"Uncomfortable?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"Again, I don't know."

"Because, breast milk implies reproduction and reproduction implies sex, and despite all evidence to the contrary, you'd rather think of your 'Dad' as sexless."

"He's not my dad."

"No, only the person you wish was your dad."

"Yes. Okay, I admit it."

Danielle was about to respond when David started crying again. "What's wrong now?" Chase asked.

"Try burping him," Danielle suggested.

Chase did, and, after several burps and some other forms of gas, David seemed to be less unhappy. Not that he looked like he was willing to entertain the idea of settling down anytime soon.

"I'll take him and you eat," Danielle offered as Chase handed her the baby and got himself a plate.

* * *

Ann started with the less sensitive areas of House's body – the outside of his arms and legs. Even if it didn't tickle, the light touches with the feather were certainly stimulating, especially with House knowing it was only going to become more intense.

Ann moved on to the tops of his legs and arms, and it still wasn't too bad. Of course, he didn't feel much when she brought the feather over his scar. Even though the muscles and nerves underneath plagued him every day with pain, the skin itself was basically dead – deformed and mostly unfeeling.

House thought about that. It was really the perfect metaphor for his emotional life before Ann. On the surface, he was twisted and practically numb. Underneath, where no one could see, there was searing, deep pain that couldn't be suppressed, despite every drug he ingested and every crazy thing he did to distract himself. It was that part of him that lashed out and hurt people, and the numbness on the surface that made them think he didn't care or that he had no feelings.

Of course, that metaphor only went so far. Unlike his thigh, he apparently had emotions other than pain. More positive ones that rarely surfaced, unless it was really important. He could be a good friend, and he had demonstrated that to Wilson and Cuddy. Because it was unconventional, and because they were both such narcissists, they didn't see it, but he had helped them.

Chase, of all people, seemed to get it, and he was actually grateful in his own way. And Ann. She understood him like no one else ever had, and unlike anyone else ever could. Even though he'd said it about Lydia, he'd truly be lost without Ann.

House was jolted out of his deep thoughts by a feather being dragged across his chest and his abdomen. House tried to remain detached and think of the sensations as interesting, but, when it came to his body, he was never really able to do that, as his thickening cock demonstrated.

Other than that, he was at least still able to mask his reaction on his face. He wasn't sure how long that would continue, as Ann started on the inside of his arms.

Next was his throat. It still wasn't exactly ticklish, but it was getting closer. The caresses of his face were sensual and loving. It became more intense again when Ann started in on his sides. She lingered over his hip bones, knowing that was one of his more tender spots. He began to breathe heavily at that point. Next were his armpits. He had never thought of himself as ticklish there, but it turned out he was. Ann lingered there for a while, until he was almost out of breath.

Next, Ann focused on the inside of his legs, and spent what seemed like forever on the inside of his thighs. She was very near his equipment, but never touched it. House didn't know what would happen when she did.

Second on his list of most dreaded spots was next, his feet. Ann was almost methodical; she started with his heel, moved up to his arch and then on to the ball of each foot. He couldn't keep his hips from bucking when she brought the feather underneath and between his toes.

"Looks like someone wants my attention, " Ann purred as she finished with his feet and looked up at his bucking hips. House knew his most sensitive area was next, and he was filled with both dread and the most intense arousal he had ever felt.

From the first touch of the feather on his balls, he thought he would explode, but he somehow managed to keep it together. House's cock was practically waving by the time Ann dropped the feather to the ground. She climbed on top of him and ran her soaking wet channel along the underside of his penis. The second time she got near the tip, she grabbed his cock, holding it still while she slammed down on him.

House moaned in appreciation as her wet, smooth walls surrounded him. They were doing their usual incredible contractions all around him. House had almost – almost – forgotten what it felt like to be inside her. It was near-total bliss.

As Ann slid up and down on him, he ached to touch her, but he couldn't, so he set that aside, reveling in the complete state of arousal he found himself in. He could tell from her face she was close, and when she came, House exploded, with every nerve ending in his body, already over-stimulated, firing with an intensity he never felt before. He heard himself moan low and deep, like a wild animal. He was out of it for a while after that - he didn't know how long. He became aware again when he heard sniffling.

Had he hurt Ann somehow? He tried to look at her face, but his vision was blurry. From what he could see, she was smiling. A huge, happy smile. So, who was crying? House suddenly became aware of the water leaking from his eyes, sliding across his temples to the pillow below his head.

Before House had the chance to think about how weak he looked or why it was lame or why he should stop, he felt and Ann giving him kisses on both sides of his face. "So beautiful," she murmured as her lips pressed repeatedly on the spots where the tears were coming down.

"Annie," House croaked in a no more than a whisper, "I need to touch you. _Right now_."

Ann reached over his head and quickly undid the restraints on his wrists. House took her face in his hands and pulled her towards him. He kissed her with toe-curling intensity, his tongue making its way into her mouth and dancing inside.

He enfolded her in his long arms and pulled her as close to him as he could, luxuriating in the feel of her entire body pressing against his.

"Do you want me to untie your feet?" Ann asked.

"Don't worry about that right now, just let me hold you for a while, okay?"

In response, Ann burrowed in deeper against House.

* * *

David wasn't crying anymore, but he was hardly in a mood to sleep. He was looking around the apartment and at Danielle and Chase with a curious intensity that Chase was all-too-familiar with.

"This is so much House's kid," Chase remarked, "Look at the expression on his face."

"I guess," Danielle said. "Although he reminds me of Ann, too."

"Well, he seems good-natured enough, at least compared to his father."

"Why don't we put him in the area where the gates are and see what happens?"

Even though David seemed quite advanced for his age, he did not have the ability to roll over. So, when Danielle put him in the play area, he was on his stomach for a while. He looked like he was going to fall asleep, which made Chase pick him up, to prevent any problems with SIDS. He tried putting David on his back, but the baby flailed his arms and legs and cried.

"What do we do now?" Chase asked.

"I guess we hold him and play with him," Danielle replied.

"I'm not getting any tonight, am I?"

"It isn't looking promising. Maybe he'll get sleepy after a while."

"Dream on."

Chase and Danielle took turns trying to engage David, who was fine if they were holding him and talking to him or waving various brightly colored-objects in his line of sight. But, the minute they stopped, he looked like he was going to cry.

They continued this for over an hour, both of them reaching a point of bored exhaustion.

"My god," Danielle exclaimed, "Ann has five years on both of us and Greg has almost twenty. How do they do this every night?"

"I think he might be more relaxed at home, so he doesn't need this much distraction," Chase responded. "I'm sure Ann and House have figured out some sort of routine that works."

"Speaking of a routine, let me check my notes, I think there's something in there about bedtime."

"Fantastic."

Danielle read what she had written down. Ann had said to get David good and tired (it didn't seem like he was yet, but Chase and Danielle were, so, good enough), give David a bath, put on his overnight diaper and give him a bottle. Then they could either put him down in his playpen bed, or, if necessary, take him to bed with them. Danielle had no idea how they would determine what was necessary, but, at least they could do the bath-changing-feeding part without requiring too much judgment.

She gave David back to Chase and got the plastic bathtub out to put in the kitchen sink and fill with water.

* * *

After they held each other a while longer, Ann freed House's ankles. Ann looked at the restraints, which were still tied to the four bedposts. House noticed a look of sadness cross her face.

"What's the matter?"

"I wanted you to do this to me," Ann said regretfully as she gestured toward the restraints, "But I'm not sure I can. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me. To be able to do that with you, to be able to trust you that much – "

"You already trust me _more_ than that."

"I do?"

"Yes. You love me. You gave me your heart. That's the deepest trust one person can give another. At least I think so."

"Oh, Greg." As Ann's eyes filled, House rolled his, but, at the same time he pulled her back to him and folded her completely in his long arms once again. Ann cried quietly into his chest for a few moments. She looked up at him with her beautiful, tear-stained face, "Thank you."

It had all been all too emotional for House, of course. "So, are we going to get started on those strawberries or what?"

"Sure. I'll go get them."

* * *

The bath had gone well enough, setting aside that fact that David splashed so much he almost drowned Danielle, Chase and the kitchen. The diaper changing was also without incident. Danielle didn't get sprayed the way Chase had. They decided Danielle should give David the bottle, just because she was female and might be a closer approximation to Ann, who mostly likely breast-fed the baby before he went to sleep.

Danielle got changed into her nightgown while Chase occupied David, and then he got changed while Danielle fed the baby. David looked relatively sleepy after his bottle, but he started to fuss as soon as they put him in the playpen, and, before long, it had become full-blown wailing.

"Should we let him do that for a while and see if he cries himself to sleep?" Chase shouted over the dim.

"We could try, I guess," Danielle conceded.

* * *

The strawberries and sparkling apple juice were delicious, and, even more delicious was the fact that they had them sitting in bed. They weren't sure where the strawberries came from, seeing as it was the dead of winter in New Jersey, but they were sweet and very juicy, which meant they both had the chance to lick the juice and chocolate from around each other's mouths. It was sensual and erotic and they both thoroughly enjoyed themselves

After they were finished, Ann brought the glasses and plates back to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. She returned, and found House watching TV. It was getting close to midnight. They both used the bathroom and got back in bed. Ann draped herself completely over House.

House had always thought of himself as a person who needed his space. He had spent a good portion of his life keeping people away from him and not letting them get anywhere near enough to touch him. He mocked people like Chase, who seemed to need a physical expression of emotion or closeness. And yet, with Ann, all that had changed.

Instead of feeling smothered by having someone covering his body, he reveled in it. And it wasn't just sexual. Sure, he was getting a hard-on from feeling her tits rub against his chest and her cunt rub against his cock, but it was more than just his testosterone responding to her estrogen.

He liked the feel of her arms around his waist, and the way her legs rested on top of his. He liked her belly rubbing against his abdomen, and he loved how she would bring her toenails lightly across the bottoms of his feet, in between the times the tops of her feet rested against the bottoms of his. The hollows of her shoulders flattening out against his was another area of delight, and her face resting against the side of his face, with Ann rubbing her cheek against his was blissful.

House found his hands trailing all along her body, from her head, down her neck, across her back, and down the back of her thighs. He could not have stopped touching her, even if he wanted to, and he didn't. That was the thing that puzzled him the most – he understood physical desire very well, and having his body respond to a beautiful, willing woman was hardly a mystery. But the emotional desire, - no, the word "need" actually fit better – was as intense as the physical. And it filled him up in a way nothing else ever had.

He loved her. He truly loved her. He loved everything about her. Her face and body weren't perfect by any means - she was a thirty-seven year-old mother, not a sixteen year-old virgin. And yet, he still gasped very time he saw her naked. She reminded House of a woman from a renaissance painting – the ideal body type with just enough sags and scars to make her completely real. The fact that she seemed to almost worship the sight of his wreck of a body only made it feel even better.

The sound of her. He remembered the first time her heard her singing in that dive of a bar with that band of senior citizens. Her voice was lyrical, yet strong. He also loved the way she hummed as she cooked dinner or nursed David. And making music gave her the same rapture it gave him. Different music, of course, but what did that matter?

The smell of her. He liked that she didn't use cologne or perfume. And he did like the shampoo and body washes she used – nothing girly or flowery, so it was nice when she was newly showered. But, his favorite smell was at the end of the day when the citrus or vanilla, or whatever she'd showered with that morning was gone. He never admitted to her why he buried his nose in the join between her neck and shoulder every night they'd slept together. It was her smell – sexy, yet comforting – filling his nose and his heart. Somehow, he suspected she knew.

The taste of her. Her taste was the salty sweat in the spaces between her toes. It was the slightly funky flavor that grew behind her ears. And it was also the taste of her womanhood – briny like an oyster, sweet like honey, with the hint of a musky, dry, ancient red wine.

And the way she felt. Her softness enveloping his hard angles. Her hands worshipping the places he was scarred or had become soft. The way the inside of her thighs rested against his hips when she rode him. Her skin firm yet soft, her body muscular yet yielding. A snatch of an old song came to him, "And when her fingers find you, they drown you in her body . . . "

House was dimly aware of the noise on the TV in the background, registering that it must be getting close to midnight. Honestly, he just couldn't bring himself to care. But, it wasn't like all those other New Year's Eves when House felt his life slipping away, filled with nothing but pain and loneliness. He didn't want the time to pass, that was the same, but the reason couldn't be more different.

It felt so good, he never wanted it to end. His brain knew that was ridiculous, but his heart couldn't be stopped in its wanton desire. _At least let me remember how I feel right now_, he asked no one in particular. And, even as he completed the thought, he knew he couldn't, not really. Only a shadow of this amazing moment would remain. But, if something were to happen and take all of this away from him, even that shadow would be strong enough to sustain him.

So, House flipped Ann on her back, and partook of the saltiness between her freshly manicured toes, making sure to lick and suck each one. He then kissed and licked the funkiness behind her ears as she squealed her delight. At last, he feasted on the briny honey wine that poured out from the heavenly place between her legs. And then, he was inside her, filling her, bringing her to climax again and again, obtaining in his own release the bliss he'd longed for his entire life. He collapsed next to her, his nose finding the exact spot, his spot, where her neck and shoulder met. It was finally, _finally_, enough.

* * *

"I can't take any more of this!" Chase shouted above the wailing infant. David had been crying for forty minutes, without taking a break, and, it seemed, to Chase and Danielle at least, even without taking a breath.

Danielle scooped David up out of the playpen-bed and held him to her chest. It only took three minutes for David to settle down and be quiet. He was asleep within six minutes.

"Now what do we do?" Danielle whispered, fearful of waking the baby.

"Do you want to wait a few minutes and try putting him down again?" Chase spoke softly.

"I don't know . . . " Danielle hesitated.

"I know he's House's kid, but I still don't think he'll fly out of the playpen and swoop around the room like a demon-baby and attack us."

"Boy, you must be tired. Even your metaphors are confused and scary. What are you talking about?"

"What I'm trying to say is that the worst that can happen is that he starts crying again. And then we pick him up again."

"No, that isn't the worst thing that could happen. He could start crying, we could pick him up and then he could keep crying."

"True."

"Let's just take him to bed, okay?"

Chase thought he had reconciled himself to not getting any, but he still couldn't help but feel disappointed. He was missing out on sex with his woman, the love of his life, on New Year's Eve, no less, all because of a difficult infant that wasn't even his kid.

The only good news was that they could bring the little troublemaker home tomorrow, come back and fuck each other's brains out for the rest of the day. Provided they had any energy left.

"Fine. Let's see if he'll sleep with us," Chase conceded.

David stirred and fussed a little when Danielle gave him to Chase so she could brush her teeth and use the toilet. She headed to bed with him as Chase used the bathroom.

Danielle was lying in bed with the baby in her arms when Chase entered the bedroom.

"Aren't you going to put him in the co-sleeping thing?" Chase questioned.

"I'm just waiting for you to get into bed, turn off the light and for both of us to settle in for a few minutes so we don't jostle him," Danielle said softly.

"Oh, okay."

Chase sat down, turned off the light, got under the covers and spooned behind Danielle.

They caressed the baby for a few minutes in an effort to soothe him.

"He is a good-looking kid," Chase note softly.

"Not as good-looking as your kid is going to be," Danielle responded.

"I know that society is not exactly brimming with positive images to bolster your self-esteem, but _our_ baby will be beautiful, because _you_ are beautiful."

"Thanks, sweetie. I love you"

"I love you, too."

With that, Danielle carefully placed David in his co-sleeping spot. She patted him and then kept one hand on him to maintain contact. The three fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

At noon the next day, House and Ann, with tousled hair and positively reeking of sex, greeted them at the door. After Chase unloaded the car and Danielle was delivering her minute-by-minute report to Ann of everything that had happened with David, House cornered Chase and practically crowed about the four times he and Ann had come together. Chase didn't have the heart (or the balls) to tell House that qualified as a lazy afternoon for him and Danielle. Well, considering House was a chronic narcotic abuser and had twenty years on him, it was still impressive, sort of. And it did give Chase hope for decent sex after fifty.

Besides, Chase sensed something else, something House would certainly never admit because it involved emotions. Between their gestures toward each other and just their demeanor, the love Ann and House felt simply poured off of them, even more palpably than the sex did.

Chase even felt a small twinge of envy, until he remembered he was with Danielle. And he also thought maybe they could learn a little something from Ann and House. Instead of their usual frenzied pace, maybe they could take it slower. They were certainly tired enough to do that. And, Chase wanted the opportunity to demonstrate to Danielle how he really felt about her. And just thinking of being held in Danielle's big, soft welcoming arms gave him a feeling of peace and contentment he never knew was possible.

They went home and spent the afternoon in bed, resting, touching, talking, and laughing. And there was some sex in there, too. House and Ann did pretty much the same thing, minus the sex, of course, because that particular itch had been well-scratched, at least for the moment, and of course, because David was with them.

All in all, there were worse ways to usher in the New Year.

* * *

Well, there you have it, the New Year's Eve chapter. I don't know why it took so long, but at least it's fairly lengthy, and I hope it was worth the wait. I have been working on subsequent chapters, so hopefully the next couple of updates will be quicker. Thanks for hanging in there.

Also, please forgive my lack of response to reviews. Between the fanfiction site having its glitches and the craziness of my real life, it's been difficult to keep up. I really do appreciate each and every review and thank you for taking the time to leave them.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Hugh! (Seeing as how I'll be your age exactly five months from today, I'll be discreet and not mention it.) Enjoy!


	64. Chapter 64

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but real llife has been, and continues to be, crazy. I still hope to finish this story in a few more chapters, albeit lengthy ones. So, thanks for bearing with me.

And, a belated Happy Independence Day to my Canadian readers, and an early Happy Independence Day to my readers from the US.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs

It was mid-January and House had been back from paternity leave for a week. The new Dean of Medicine (the one who had the real power, as opposed to the figurehead, namely, Cuddy) had been hired when he was on leave. House made it until Friday before he was summoned to the new boss's office. It was the meeting he had been dreading ever since Cuddy was demoted. Better the devil you know, House thought as he reluctantly made his way down in the elevator.

"Thanks for coming by," the young man said as he greeted House at the entrance to the first floor office.

House noted the change in décor. The room had definitely lost its feminine vibe. It was replaced by a more sleek, professional look. The desk was gone. That had been Cuddy's personal property. House hadn't been to her new office, and he wondered if she had moved it there. Probably not. Too many memories that would just make her mad as hell.

Of course, Cuddy's diplomas and personal items were gone, too. No pictures of Rachel or of Cuddy cuddling a primate with Lucas's face pasted on top. Cuddy probably would have gotten rid of that, too, and not entirely because it reminded her of what House did to it.

"So," Merkel said, "I know you're a busy man and so am I. Let's cut to the chase. There are about a million rumors flying around that you are leaving Princeton-Plainsboro."

_Well, here it is_, House thought. Cuddy had put up with his crap for years. He was positive no one else would. And the lawsuit was all the more reason for them to give him the boot. Sure, Ginsberg had told him that one of the conditions of the settlement was that House couldn't be dismissed arbitrarily, but he'd most likely done _something_ they could use as an excuse. He braced himself for the firing that he knew was coming.

"I just want to ask you," the new boss paused for effect, "To reconsider."

"What?" House asked, genuinely stunned.

"Listen," the new administrator began, "I know you've been through a lot working here. The board let me see the documentation in the case file. I had a seriously, 'Whoa, Dude' moment."

House wasn't crazy about the new boss using slang. That privilege belonged to House. This kid hadn't earned the right yet. Nevertheless, House was intrigued by what he was saying, so he remained silent as Merkel continued.

"Anyway, I think that the outcome of the lawsuit kind of made up for that, and the person who caused all the problems is basically out of the picture, so I hope you'll at least consider not leaving."

"I don't understand. I cost the hospital seventy-five million dollars, and you want me to keep working here?"

"You like to be called House, right?"

"Yeah."

"House, we just got two donations worth fifty million, and there are a couple more in the pipeline. So, we'll have that made up around the middle of the year, I'm guessing."

"Cuddy's doing well in her new job."

"She's taking credit for it, but it really has nothing to do with her."

"What?"

"Those donations are because of you, House."

"They are?"

"Uh-huh. One is from a wealthy businessman. Lots of 'thank you for saving my daughter's life' stuff. I'm sure you've heard that before."

"Um, not really."

"Seriously? That's hard to believe. Anyway, the second one is even cooler. Ten years ago, you treated a young teenager with cystic fibrosis. He lived into his twenties, and left his entire thirty-five million dollar trust fund to the hospital."

"That doesn't mean it had anything to do with me."

"Are you kidding? It was in his will. He said that you gave him another ten years of life."

"With CF, I'm surprised he considered it much of a gift."

"Hey, it's what he said. He also said you were the best doctor he ever had. You didn't let him get away with anything and you didn't treat him like an invalid."

"Call me Doctor Tough Love."

"_He_ liked it."

"So, you really want me to stay?"

"Are you kidding? You're a serious rainmaker, man."

House was finding all of this hard to believe. Cuddy had always told him that he was a liability to the hospital, not an asset. "Are you sure that Cuddy shouldn't get the credit for this?"

"Absolutely not. Listen, you probably don't know this, but among her peers, the consensus is that she's been living off her reputation for years. That, and her looks. And it's not like she can do that for much longer. Her body is still okay for a woman heading into her late forties, but have you seen her face lately? Ten miles of bad road." Merkel grimaced. "Oh, by the way, if you ever tell anyone I was commenting on the physical attributes of a colleague, I'll deny it."

House nodded in acknowledgement. "So, what exactly are you offering me?"

"Well, I know you don't need the money, and, between that and the hospital's budget being tight, at least for the time being, I really can't offer you too much more than bringing your salary up to the level of the other department heads."

"As you said, I really don't need the money. And, after what happened with my wife last November, I'm looking to cut back on the time I spend here."

"Well, I can relate. That's why I went into administration. My practice as an orthopedic surgeon was too demanding."

"You have a family?"

"Yup, a husband and three kids." Merkel turned around the picture on his desk, showing Merkel, and a tall, decent-looking guy with three kids between the ages of nine and five years old, House guessed.

"They're adopted," Merkel filled in the blank. "Trevor's sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident. It was a tough situation, but we lucked out and got to keep them."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. I also heard that you're building a new house, with an office and a conference room, with a lot of computer equipment to let you work from home."

"That's because I think I'd like to consult on cases rather than have to go to a job every day."

"There's no reason you couldn't do that here. My understanding is that you're not, really, um, hands-on with your patients, anyway."

"True."

"And if you needed more staff to do more of the hands-on stuff at the hospital, I'm sure we could accommodate that."

"I could expand my team?"

"Why not? You know the number of doctors some departments have in this hospital? As many as thirty. And then there's the nursing and nursing tech staffs, plus all the administrative support. And they don't get nearly the results you do. Not to mention that they don't get the donations you bring in, either."

"I sound like a rock star on a budget."

"I know this is going to screw my negotiating position, but, dude, you are. Princeton Plainsboro would just be another little East Podunk hospital, if not for your results and your reputation. Why do you think I'm trying so hard to keep you here?"

"Okay. But, I'm not convinced. If I'm on staff, I'll still have to show up at the hospital more than I'd like. And take cases that maybe I wouldn't have to in private practice."

"You'd have the same right to refuse cases as you do now."

"And there's all the administrative crap, no offense."

"None taken. Administration isn't my first love, either. It just happens to pay well and have more regular hours. Hey, if we expanded your department, you could delegate that stuff to one of the doctors on your staff. What about that Foreman guy? I've met him and he seems like enough of a tight-ass to really enjoy the administrative stuff."

"True. But, I'm still not sure."

"I'm not going to lie to you, House - you would have more control in private practice, I can't deny that. And I'd like to keep you on staff here. But, hey, if you go that route, you're still going to need hospital privileges somewhere, so if you decide you don't want to be a staff member, could we at least have you keep your privileges here?"

"I'm open to considering it."

"Cool, dude."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah, unless you can think of anything else you want. I can't say I have a blank check, but I did convince the board to give me some extra money to try to keep you. Also, I think it's great that you've been able to keep some really good doctors on your staff because of the prestige of working with you, but this fellowship thing with the crappy pay has to stop, especially for the people you've had on your staff for so long. Not just anyone can step into a job like that, put in the hours and get the results. They ought to be paid accordingly."

Not that he would admit it, House had been thinking about that lately. Taub had been used to a certain lifestyle, and House didn't want him falling off a cliff with his finances. It was enough of a pain in the ass dealing with his other predilections.

Thirteen appeared to be in a stable relationship, but that could change. She needed to make enough so that she could at least afford to buy long term care insurance. Not that House cared about her at all; he just didn't want to deal with any of her upcoming health issues.

Foreman was also, to the surprise of everyone, sustaining a long term relationship. House had no idea if Foreman even wanted the trappings of a "conventional" life – wife, kids, etc., but there was no way he could afford that on his current salary. His significant other might make enough, but, House suspected, Foreman was probably not the kind of guy who liked living off his woman's income. Besides, if House was going to dump all his administrative crap on him, Foreman would need to be paid more, anyway.

Chase was getting married. Whatever savings Chase had managed to scrape together had probably been used up on the ridiculously large engagement ring he had bought for Danielle. (Of course, compared to what House gave Ann, it was tiny, but, that was different, House could afford it.)

If by chance there was any cash left over, it would most likely get spent on the honeymoon. So, Chase was definitely going to need the money. Not that House would admit that he actually cared enough to help Chase, but Chase had earned something extra for working for House all those years. Something like combat pay, he supposed.

"I could pay them more, I guess," was the closest House could come to acknowledging that he wanted to help out his staff.

"And another benefit is that you won't have a whack-job boss coming after you anymore, either."

House knew full well everything Cuddy had done to him. But, he felt compelled to point out that he wasn't the easiest employee in the world, either.

"I'm going to honor my reputation and be brutally honest here. I'm hardly what you would call an organization man. The opposite, in fact."

"Hey, genius isn't easy. And if you're going to make those out-there diagnoses, you're going to need to push the envelope."

"I've been known for pushing more than professional boundaries."

"Hey, you're on a drug-testing regimen, and you're not abusing anymore, right?"

"Yeah, but there have been other things."

"Dude, I like practical jokes as well as the next guy. It really helps blow off steam. And I've done enough of that stuff myself. I mean, some of the things we used to do with the cadavers in med school . . . pretty sick."

"Well, some of the stuff here got a little out of hand . . . "

"I draw the line at anything physical, so no more punching out your staff or them punching you, no matter how annoying you are to each other. More importantly, no more tripping, stealing canes, or so-called broken elevators. And if I find out anyone on my staff or their families are coming after you or your family, they're fired, no questions asked. And I'll call in the police immediately."

"Thanks."

"Well, that's about all I have for you right now. What do you think?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised."

"But in a good way, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you'll consider it?"

"Yes, I will. I'd like to talk to my wife about it."

"Yeah, this is important. I pass all that stuff by the ol' ball and chain myself."

"How long do I have to make the decision?"

"The next board meeting is in three weeks, and I told them I'd have an answer then."

"Okay. Um, thanks."

"No, dude, thank _you_."

House left the office pleasantly stunned.

He got back and said nothing to his team, of course. They would probably find out he'd been to see the new boss, and think the worst. House didn't mind that. If they assumed he was getting fired, it would be less of a shock if he turned the offer down since it would result in his leaving either way.

They went through a DDX on their latest patient and House sent them off to do tests.

He decided that before he signed on with Skippy (his new nickname for the boss), he'd like to find out more about him. He headed for the computer in his office.

House googled him. The latest stuff was a press release about his new job at Princeton Plainsboro, and how everything was wonderful and shiny and new. In other words, the usual bullshit they put in press releases.

House checked further and found Merkel's professional accomplishments. The guy had graduated med school near the top of his class, and had obtained a specialty as an orthopedic surgeon, like he'd said. He'd written a couple of papers that House decided he would check out later.

He had moved into administration in the last three years. There was a fairly lengthy article in a Denver paper announcing his promotion to his previous job and interviewing him about how he intended to run the hospital. As he explained to the fawning reporter, he believed in a "hands-off" style, and "hiring good people who were capable of making their own decisions."

Well, that explained a lot. The search committee had certainly been acting in response to Cuddy's controlling style, and hired someone who, at least on paper, sounded very different. Of course, anyone could say anything in a puff piece for a newspaper. The proof would be in his actions.

House scrolled for a couple more pages, mostly more fluffy stuff about Skippy's awesome management style from adoring local newspapers.

House was about to turn off his computer when he started to see articles from The Advocate. At first, he thought it was probably more of the same happy talk – gay man running a hospital, great role model, etc.

But, when he started to read the articles, he found that wasn't the case. Apparently, there had been some trouble when the new boss and his partner tried to adopt the sister's children. House remembered Merkel had said it was a "tough situation." House assumed it was the kids being upset about losing their parents, but there was a lot more to it than that. It seemed the paternal grandmother had fought them for custody.

That wasn't really surprising, nor were her comments about worrying that her grandchildren would be brought up in an "unsuitable environment." A lot of people of that generation had a hard time dealing with openly gay couples and the idea of their raising kids.

What surprised House was the reporting on the family court judge's comments on the case. Apparently, the judge had thought he was off-the-record when he made a few interesting statements like, "No fags should be let anywhere near kids because they'll just diddle them," "Kids can only be happy in two-parent, heterosexual families" (House actually snorted out loud when he read that one, thinking of his own "happy" childhood being beaten and regularly tormented by a staunchly heterosexual father while his equally heterosexual mother did nothing about it), and "gays who won't give up their sinful lifestyle should be forced into re-education camps or put in mental hospitals."

In short, it was every negative and incorrect thing about homosexuality and families that had been disproved by years of scientific and social science research. Of course, the judge was characterized as "an upstanding member of his Christian church." Just another case of bigotry justified under the guise of "religious values."

House had decided long ago that even though he knew it was ridiculous, he had no problem with people being religious. It was up to them how much of their lives and their money they wanted to waste on fantasy and delusion. Hell, he'd certainly spent enough on almost all forms of escapism, and the delusions had managed to find him, too. His problem was when people felt the need to impose all that foolishness on everyone else.

At least after the judge's comments got out in the press, he was forced to recuse himself from the case. He later resigned. Apparently his statements became a serious problem for him with the more progressive elements of the community. And, obviously, Merkel and his significant other had eventually won the case.

As House thought about it, he came to the conclusion that it might not be a bad thing that his new boss had been through something like this. It certainly explained his acceptance of and empathy toward House. Merkel knew what it was like to be an outsider, to break with society's view of what was acceptable. And he'd obviously had to deal with irrational authority figures.

Between what he had been offered and what he was discovering about his new boss, House decided he might be open to staying for a little while longer, at least. If nothing else, he could work on developing his practice while the hospital continued to pay for his staff, which would take a lot of the financial pressure off of him. And, if Skippy turned out to be an anal-compulsive micro-manager the way Cuddy had been, House would still have the option to quit then.

As House had told the new boss, he'd have to run it by Ann. Not that she had, nor would she want, any kind of veto over his professional life. But, he'd come to trust her judgment. So, he copied the URLs of some of the articles and put them in an e-mail. For the message he wrote:

_Hey, Annie. I wanted to run something by you. I just met with the new boss here and, believe it or not, he wants me to stay. (I probably should have warned you to protect your tailbone as you fell off your chair.) He offered me a few things I might want, but nothing huge. Decent stuff, though, and I'll tell you about it when I get home. _

_Why does he want me to stay on after I've cost the hospital millions? Guess what? It turns out I'm a major donation magnet. And my reputation is what puts the hospital on the map, at least according to him. I know that's the completely opposite view of the former occupant of his office, but I'm guessing, based upon what you've told me, it doesn't surprise you._

_After having had the boss from hell, the big question is, do you think I could work for this guy? Read these articles and maybe google him yourself and let me know._

_I'll try to be home on time tonight, but I still haven't figured out what's wrong with my patient, so I'll text you and let you know when to fire up the grill on the stove and cook those steaks. Give Davy-Wavy-Gravy a kiss (or a dozen) for me until I get home and can do it myself._

_Love ya. G._

After the message, there were the links House had pulled off the search page. He hit send and closed his computer as the team entered the conference room with test results on their patient.

"Let's wrap this up, kids," House exclaimed as he went into the conference room from his office. "I have a cute baby and a hot woman waiting at home for me."

"Rumor has it that you were in the new boss's office today," Taub ventured tentatively. "Any comments?"

"Well, if rumor has it," House responded, "Quit bothering me and go talk to her. From what I hear, she's an easy lay. Even _you_ might get lucky. Results, people!"

"Well, she's definitely got ovarian cancer," Foreman remarked. "But, it's not advanced enough to cause paraneoplastic syndrome, so how do we explain the seizures and the paralysis?"

"Who cares?" Chase questioned, obviously bored, "With ovarian cancer she's pretty much dead, anyway."

"_She_ might," House responded. "A six-month prognosis is better than a six-hour one. Besides, we don't want to turn her over to Uncle Jimmy unless everything is tied up in a neat bow, or he gets cranky."

"It could be environmental," Thirteen guessed.

"How?" Taub asked. He'd obviously given up on getting any information from House about the meeting with Merkel. "She works in an office, and she lives in the suburbs. No factories or environmental pollutants there."

"Doesn't she have some sort of unusual hobby?" Chased asked, looking through his copy of the file.

"Oh, I hope there are whips, chains and nipple clamps involved," House leered.

"Here it is," Chase said, ignoring House's comment. "She makes stained glass."

"A lot of people do that for a hobby," Thirteen remarked. "They don't get these symptoms."

"If you make the occasional Christmas ornament, probably not," Chase countered, "But if you and your significant other are building a house, and you spend hours after work every night and all of your weekends making windows for the place, and you can't be bothered to wear any protective clothing, you could get enough lead exposure to really mess you up."

"It does fit a lot of the symptoms," House noted, "And the others can be explained by the cancer. Start treatment, and when she's buffed up, hand her over to kindly Doctor Wilson. I'm heading home."

House pushed away from the conference table and headed toward his office. He quickly put everything he needed in his backpack, put on his coat and was out the door in less than five minutes. In the elevator, he texted Ann and told her he was leaving the hospital, and that he was very hungry. He didn't have enough space in the text to tell her all the things he was hungry for. He smiled to himself as he went through the lobby toward his car.

* * *

House had been so engrossed in his search for info on his new boss and then with his team that he didn't realize it had been snowing heavily all afternoon. It took him fifteen minutes to clean the snow off his car, and then another forty-five to get home for a commute that usually took ten or fifteen minutes.

He finally got home and pulled his car into the garage. He entered the hallway, hung up his coat and went to the living room. David was in his swing and Ann was kneeling on the floor, digging through what looked like manuals of some kind.

"Are you okay?" Ann asked with concern as she stood up and went to put her arms around him. She let out a sigh. "I'm so glad you made it home safely."

At first, House didn't know how to react. In his life before Ann, there was never anyone there to express concern if he were home late. There had been so many years when he came home to an empty apartment. And the times he hadn't, Stacey might get upset if he were late for dinner reservations, or Wilson might get annoyed if House weren't home on time to eat the food Wilson had prepared. But, genuine concern for him, for his well-being, no.

House decided to bask in the warmth of Ann's embrace for a little while. He slid his arms around her and breathed in her scent.

The spell was broken when David started to fuss in the swing. Not that either of them minded that particular intrusion.

"Hi, Davy," House said softly as went to the swing and picked up his son. He cradled him in his arms and nuzzled his neck, and then gave him kisses all over his face. "Daddy's home."

"For the next two days," Ann directed her remarks to the baby as she slid her arms around House's waist, "We get to love Daddy all to ourselves."

House was cold, hungry, tired, anxious about what his new boss had told him, and in need of his pain meds. But, at that moment, all of that receded as he listened to his wife. "We _get_ to love Daddy," she'd said, like it was a privilege. Like he was important to someone. Like he _mattered_ to them.

"Can we move this to the couch?" House asked Ann. His voice was a little husky, but, if she asked, he'd tell her it was dry from the car heater or something.

"Of course, baby," she agreed as she let go of him and he went to the sofa. As House eased down with David, he realized that there wasn't much chance of his moving again tonight without help.

Ann sat next to her two favorite men. Her arms were around House's waist as she looked at her son cradled in the strong arms of her husband. "Do you want me to start dinner?"

"Yes," House requested. "What is all this stuff?"

"Computer manuals."

"For?"

"Your office in the new house."

"Do we really have to figure all this stuff out now?"

"No. Although it would be helpful to have some idea, so I know about things like wiring, cable, switches and outlets before they add the sheetrock."

"Oh, sheetrock! Hey, Ms. Carpenter, is that a technical term, too?"

"A brilliant diagnostician who doesn't know one end of a hammer from the other shouldn't be criticizing people in the trades."

"Seriously?"

"I've met some of these people and they're impressive."

"How impressive? All muscular and sweaty? Are you telling me I should be worried about some carpenter guy hitting on my wife?"

"You don't need to. All I ever want is right here."

"Same here. With the possible exception of dinner. I should probably have something to eat so I can take my meds."

Ann went to the kitchen. She grilled one of the steaks as she pulled a baked potato from the oven, cut it open, and seasoned it. She added a dollop of sour cream. She put some garlic broccoli on the plate and then added the finished steak.

She saw House with both legs up on the sofa as he held David and talked to him. _He must really be hurting_, Ann thought as she brought the food to him.

She set the plate and a glass of sparkling water on one end of the coffee table. She very gently eased House's legs on to the other end of the table, along with the flatware wrapped in a napkin she'd been carrying under her arm. She unlaced House's sneakers and removed them as carefully as possible.

"Hey, you don't have to do that," House told her.

"They're wet from the snow," Ann reminded him. "Besides, you know that with my fetish, I'll take any excuse to touch your feet."

To emphasize the point, Ann leaned down and kissed the bottom of each of House's feet. House felt a tiny amount of electricity pass through his lower region.

"It would be even better without the socks," he informed her.

"After supper and David's bedtime," Ann agreed.

She took David in one arm. She moved the glass to within House's reach as he placed the plate on his lap. She handed him the flatware wrapped in the napkin.

Ann could tell by looking at House that he was overwhelmed emotionally. She didn't know if it was his encounter with the new boss, his solving his case, or the way she had reacted when he returned home. It really didn't matter to her what was causing it; she just knew he would need to deflect.

"I'm not going to use that napkin," House announced. "I'm not wiping my face with something that's covered with your b.o."

"And yet, you'll stick your tongue in my hoo-hoo," Ann observed.

"Totally different."

"If you say so."

There was a pause as House ate some of his meal.

"How's the steak?"

"Perfect. And the baked potato isn't bad, either."

"I know you like the broccoli, too."

"Don't spread that around. I have a vegetable-hating reputation to protect."

"Okay."

"Are you going to eat anything?"

"Yes. After I feed David."

Ann sat down next to House on the couch, lifted up her shirt and proceeded to feed the baby. The idea was for House to have a few minutes to finish his dinner so that Ann could give David to him and then eat her own dinner.

House finished his meal, then burped David as Ann prepared her meal and returned. She handed House his meds and put a refilled glass of water on the table. House put the meds in his mouth, reached for the glass and drank a couple of sips. He put the glass on the table and moved it towards her so she would have a beverage.

"Did you get my e-mail today?" House asked as he held David and Ann started eating her steak.

"Yes," Ann responded. "I read the links and did a little of my own research, too."

"What do you think?"

"Well, it _sounds_ like he'll be different than the previous Dean of Medicine," Ann couldn't help but shudder slightly at even the indirect reference to Cuddy, "But you can't tell if he'll actually behave that way."

"I could contact some of his former employees."

"Yeah, but unless there is some public record of anything this guy might have done wrong, it's unlikely anyone will be completely honest with you."

"True. People still don't know everything that happened with Cuddy."

"And no one who wants to keep his or her career intact is likely to start spouting off about hospital rumors to another colleague, both to keep themselves out of trouble with their current employer, and also so they don't get a reputation of being difficult to potential future employers."

"The human race contains such giants of integrity and courage, doesn't it?"

"Well not everyone is world-famous and so clearly brilliant at what he or she does as you are. When you're just one of the pack, you have to be careful and play at least some politics – for self-preservation, if nothing else."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me what you thought."

"Well, I went the consultant route myself after a bad experience with a large organization, but that doesn't mean that's what you should do."

"He did tell me some good stuff, Annie. I could delegate all the administrative crap. He would let me hire more staff so I could limit my hours at the hospital. He would let me pay decent wages to the people who worked for me."

Ann smiled inwardly. Most of the rest of humanity would be shocked to hear that House actually wanted to help out the people who worked for him. But not Ann, of course. She knew he cared about them, just in an unconventional way. Or, on the rare occasion it turned out to be conventional, that House kept it well hidden.

"All of that does sounding promising, at least," Ann conceded. "And, if it turns out not to be true, you can always leave then, right?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"Okay."

"Are we wasting a lot of money on a home office and conference room, then?"

"I wondered where my frugal husband had gone there for a second. No, actually, I don't think we're being profligate. You told me Doctor Merkel said you could work more from home. If you want to do that, you'll need a lot of that equipment."

"And if I'm still on the hospital's payroll, maybe I can get them to reimburse us!"

"Greg, you already got seventy-five million dollars out of them."

"Hey, if you don't ask, the answer's always 'no.' What are you smiling about?"

"You."

"Why?"

"I thought with all the money we received in that lawsuit, you might change."

"You like my being cheap?"

"I never thought about it, but I guess I don't mind it."

"Really?"

"It makes me think of my Dad."

"Was he cheap?"

"No, but he had this great expression for people who are."

"Which was?"

"He (or she, or they) can squeeze a nickel until he buffalo shits."

"They stopped making buffalo nickels in 1938, didn't they? Wasn't that before your father was born? Did he even own any of those nickels?"

"Leave it to you to know that and ruin one of my most fond memories of my dear, departed father."

"You almost had me there until the 'dear, departed' came up."

"I knew I overplayed that the minute that phrase passed my lips."

"Speaking of passing your lips, I don't suppose I could entice you into the bedroom for a little oral activity, among other things?"

"Absolutely. I'll be back in a few."

Ann took the plates and utensils into the kitchen, put away the leftovers and cleaned up from dinner. She returned to the living room. House was holding a sleeping David. Ann took him and brought him to his room. She changed him at the changing table. As she thought might happen, David woke up. She sat down in the rocking chair in his room. He continued to fuss until Ann began to sing:

_Baby mine, don't you cry.  
Baby mine, dry your eyes.  
Rest your head close to my heart,  
Never to part,  
Baby of mine._

_Little one when you play,_  
_Don't you mind what they say._  
_Let those eyes sparkle and shine,_  
_Never a tear,_  
_Baby of mine._

_If they knew sweet little you,  
They'd end up loving you too.  
All those same people who scold you  
What they'd give just for the right to hold you._

_From your head down to your toes,_  
_You're not much, goodness knows._  
_But you're so precious to me,_  
_Sweet as can be,_  
_Baby of mine._

_All those same people who scold you,_  
_What they'd give just for the right to hold you._

_From your head down to your toes_  
_You're not much, goodness knows._  
_But you're so precious to me,_  
_Sweet as can be,_  
_Baby of mine._  
_Baby of mine_

House sat in the living room, watching TV. It was muted to try to help him relax after he had taken his pain meds. He heard Ann's lullaby to David over the monitor. God, he loved her voice and hearing her sing.

House heard Ann rise from the rocking chair, cross the room and place David in his crib. "Oh, David, you look so much like your Daddy," she sighed softly. "How could I not adore both of you?"

House heard her kiss David goodnight and walk out of the room. Suddenly, he became aware that that his eyes really couldn't focus on the TV. His vision was too blurry, for some reason. Ann came into the living room at that moment. _Oh, shit_, he thought.

"Hey, baby," she said softly, "Let's go to bed, okay?"

House braced himself for some remark. Sarcasm, snark, exasperation, pity, anything. Ann simply offered him her hand. He took it and pulled himself up, slowly and painfully. Great. Another display of weakness. Ann just slid her arm around his waist, like she did every night as they headed to bed.

As they moved down the hall to their bedroom, House started to become angry. Why didn't she make some kind of comment about this pathetic display of emotion? Or his more than obvious physical limitations? What the hell was wrong with her?

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he rasped thickly, hating his own voice for conveying his vulnerability.

"I'm saving my tongue for marriage," Ann quipped, "Or, at least for the next few moments of my marriage."

House couldn't help but smile. He would have taken her right there in the hallway, but he was just too tired.

They entered their bedroom and got ready for bed.

House sat on the bed, otherwise naked, gearing himself up for the ordeal he knew it would be to get his socks off of his feet.

"You seem like you're in a lot of pain," Ann observed calmly. "Would you like a massage?"

"Not tonight," House sighed.

"Can I at least help you with your socks?"

"Um, okay."

Ann sat next to him, and gently pulled his foot into her lap. She carefully slid the top part of the sock down his leg and ankle, and pushed it on to his heel. She then grabbed the toe of the sock and pulled it off slowly, almost like she was doing a strip-tease with his foot. She did the same thing with his other foot.

"Gorgeous," she murmured, looking at his feet in her lap. She moved them both carefully off of her lap and on to the bed. She got down on her knees in front of the bed and began to work her way slowly up his soles, kissing them softly as she went.

House felt that jolt in his lower regions again, much stronger than when Ann had kissed his feet through his socks. Just as he was getting used to the feel of her lips on the bottoms of his feet, she gently grasped his ankles. She began licking at his heel, moving up toward his toes.

"Annie, um, aahh," House grunted. When she pulled his toes apart and started licking in-between, he lost all ability to speak. Of course, at this point, another part his anatomy was making his wishes known for him.

"Such a big boy," Ann cooed playfully as she licked and nipped her way up the inside of House's legs toward his manhood. House thought he would cum with the first touch of her tongue on his balls, but he somehow managed to keep himself from doing that.

He thought Ann would move quickly on to his penis, but she continued to gently lick his ball sack. Her arousal was pretty evident. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was heavy. Every time her hot breath hit him, he thought he was going to die from pleasure, the stimulation was so intense.

Finally, she moved on to his cock. She flattened her tongue and lapped up the front, back and sides, moving her tongue in circles. When she got to his foreskin, she did her usual amazing thing and pulled it back, licked the exposed tip, and them let it slide back so she could lick in-between.

House's brain was on total overload at this point, the pleasure becoming so extreme it was almost painful. He felt the muscles in his testicles and his abdomen begin to contract. His body stiffened and he released. There were lights and flashes behind his eyes as bliss passed over him in wave after wave.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, he was confronted with one of his favorite sights – Ann lying next to him with her tits covered in his cum.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look like that?" he asked softly.

"You might have mentioned it – a few dozen times," Ann grinned.

"Well, you know how effusive I am with my compliments."

"Uh-huh."

"Listen, I'm not sure I can, um, reciprocate tonight."

"No problem."

"You sure?"

"I'll just anticipate tomorrow morning. And have some really great dreams."

"You dream about me?"

"Every night. And then I wake up and my dreams come true."

"I'm sure your dreams don't include the sound of my gagging."

"Sorry. But I do fantasize about you, pretty much every day."

"Well, I fantasize about you, but that's mostly the testosterone talking."

"And they call women hormonal. Tell me about your fantasies."

"A French maid's costume. Or, a school-girl outfit. You know, the usual guy thing. What about yours?"

"Bodice ripping, being tied down, you know, the usual female thing."

"But, you couldn't do that on New Year's Eve."

"I know. But it's still a fantasy I have. No one said our libidos aren't quirky things."

"Would you ever re-consider letting me take you like that?"

"Yes. And while we have the restraints out, I can do the feather thing again."

"Oh, no."

"You can't refuse me. It's your husbandly duty."

"My husbandly duty is to keep you barefoot, knocked up and chained to the sink."

"Oh, I just love it when you go all male-chauvinist on me."

"Yeah, right."

There was a brief pause.

"I told you on New Year's Eve I wanted another baby. You really didn't tell me what you thought about that."

"I'm ambivalent. I love the idea of your hormones raging while you're pregnant. It makes for really fantastic sex."

"But?"

"I can't go through what we went through with David. I can't risk losing you again."

"And you know as well as I do that with my history, I'd be closely monitored so it wouldn't happen again."

"Can we put this discussion on hold, at least for a little while? David's only two months old."

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but if we're going to do it, we can't wait too long, either."

"Okay."

Ann got up and washed her chest in anticipation of David needing to breast feed during the night. She returned to bed and snuggled up against House.

House remembered how studly he felt on New Year's Eve when Ann talked about having another child with him. He felt flattered, and he still found it hard to explain.

"You really want to have another kid with me?" House asked.

"Brains, talent, good looks and a loving father. What woman wouldn't want to have kids with you?"

"As I said before, there are at least a few million."

"They're idiots. But, at least I don't have to compete with them."

"You don't have to compete with anybody, Annie."

"I'm you're one and only, huh?"

"The gagging is coming back."

Ann smiled as they snuggled even closer. "I love you, Gregory House."

"I love you, too."

They fell into a satisfying sleep.

* * *

When I wrote this chapter earlier this year, I had no idea that marriage equality would have become a reality in my state, New York, by the time I posted it. Our legislature and the last few governors before this one haven't exactly given us much reason to be proud of them, with the sex scandals, the illegal behavior, and the majority leader in the previous state senate actually practicing something akin to legalized extortion, not to mention years of not dealing with the more mundane aspects of government, like passing a budget on time. But, a week ago, I was as proud be a New Yorker as I have ever been. As the Reverend Martin Luther King once said, "The arc of history bends toward justice." The expansion of rights makes all of our lives better.


	65. Chapter 65

A/N: This chapter is a little different from what I've done elsewhere in this story. It's obviously Chase and Danielle's wedding, but it's told in a series of vignettes. I decided to do that because: (a) I didn't want the chapter to go on forever, although I think it does, anyway; (b) I wanted to get this done before my oldest, who turned twelve last spring, goes off to college; and (c) I didn't want to bore everyone with a bunch of exposition and connective tissue, as it were. (I've decided to save the connective tissue for the fall as I've heard that boiling it makes a great soup broth, and it's too hot to boil anything in July in most of North America.) So, enjoy the bits and pieces!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs

Ann had met Danielle's family, and so she knew what to expect, which was why she was dreading the wedding. House was going to try to be a detached scientist, looking at this strange species of animal known as Danielle's relatives. However, having heard Danielle's stories, House knew he would wind up seeing the situation as a near-bottomless opportunity to mock his fellow human beings. He couldn't wait.

Chase was just trying to get through everything, keep Danielle happy (which, Chase realized, was totally _not_ possible), and get on the honeymoon as soon as they could. Thank goodness he'd had an increase in salary, so he could pay for a decent resort in Florida. (Chase suspected that after they'd been through the wedding, they were going to need some serious pampering.)

Danielle had already survived a wedding with her family, and knew it was going to be, well, interesting. She'd become quite a bit more mature since then, and no longer needed, or, for that matter, had any expectations, that things would be perfect. So, she thought, at a minimum, she could be more detached, hence, less mortified. It helped that Chase loved her and that he had already met her family. The odds were much lower that he would run for his life from either the wedding or the reception.

The guest list was small because Danielle's parents were gone, and she had no siblings, so her "side" consisted of her Aunt and her cousin and family. Plus Ann and House, of course. (Since it was an evening wedding, Ann decided she would leave David home with Aleena.) Chase had no family at all, so he invited his co-workers on House's team and their significant others. He also invited Wilson, just to keep House occupied, and, hopefully, out of significant trouble.

Danielle was worried about Chase's guest list. She knew that they were the closest he had to family, and, of course, she had no problem herself, but her family was not exactly broad-minded when it came to matters of religion, race or sexual orientation. So, that meant they would have to spend several hours behaving themselves and not making comments about a Jewish couple, an African-American couple, and a lesbian couple. And Wilson was potentially even more trouble. Given his still somewhat boyish good looks, if he didn't bring a date, it was pretty likely Danielle's family would assume he was gay.

Danielle strongly urged Chase to do whatever he could to get Wilson to bring someone. Wilson had only been in therapy for about a month, but he had already learned a lot about himself, including just starting to delve into his failed relationships. The last thing Wilson wanted at that point was to get involved with anyone.

Chase suggested Wilson attempt something casual. Wilson didn't have a good track record of being able to do that. Plus, all the women Wilson knew were from the hospital. If anything did happen, and Wilson needed to put a stop to things, it would be all kinds of awkward at work. So, Wilson resisted.

Danielle turned to Ann for help. Ann had a friend from college who was a professor at Harvard. Her name was Sarah, and she was an immunologist. She was very focused on her career and had never married. After having seen pictures of her, House maintained it was because she was ugly. Ann, being the good friend she was, strongly disagreed, of course.

In any case, given that both Wilson and Sarah weren't looking to get into a relationship, and that Sarah was not Wilson's "type" - both Sarah's parents had died by the time she was ten, and her stepmother had unceremoniously pushed her out of the house at eighteen, so she was extremely independent - it seemed that they could struggle through a few hours together, posing as each other's "date."

Ann convinced Sarah by guilting her with the fact that she had been too busy to come to Ann and House's wedding. Chase convinced Wilson by asking him if he really wanted Danielle's cousin's husband, a guy with an IQ below ninety, questioning his manhood for several hours, with the added bonus of House being there to witness and remember the whole thing. They both reluctantly agreed, after much reassurance that there were no expectations of anything beyond being at the wedding together.

Ann had wanted to be more involved in the wedding planning, but between the baby, her not-exactly low-maintenance husband, going back to work, and the construction of the new house, her time was pretty well used up. Danielle reassured her that it was no problem, and reminded Ann that she was contributing mightily to wedding harmony (or, at least, limiting wedding discord) by getting Sarah to come as Wilson's date.

* * *

Valentine's Day was on a Tuesday, which was not the most convenient day for a wedding, but Danielle and Chase wanted that particular date, so it was going to happen then. They chose a hotel for the wedding venue, mainly because there would be rooms available for Danielle's family, who would be traveling from upstate New York.

Danielle and Chase didn't have enough space in their apartment, and, for once, Ann didn't want to offer her place. She figured there was no way they could spend any concentrated time with Danielle's family without it resulting in some form of violence. Ann knew House was going to be spending his time mocking Danielle's family, but she also knew he could be subtle enough about it that they wouldn't even realize it. Still, there would be plenty of other provocations.

Danielle's Aunt would, most likely, either be silently disapproving of Ann's leaving the Church, or, even worse, be constantly telling Ann she was going to fry in hell because she was an atheist. Ann probably could have gotten through that with gritted teeth, but she was also pretty sure Aunt Rita would bring David into it as well, because, of course, he wasn't baptized. Ann didn't want to hear some self-righteous woman telling her that her innocent, precious son was consigned to eternal torment just because neither she nor her husband was willing to let some priest splash water on him.

And Danielle's cousin's family was even worse. From what Ann had seen, and Danielle had confirmed, the two kids, who were nine and seven, were budding sociopaths. Given both nature (their father being a head case), and nurture (the example they had in the home), it probably wasn't their fault, but, still, Ann didn't feel comfortable having them anywhere near a tiny, helpless baby.

And Danielle's cousin and her husband were a whole other trip. Ann really didn't think she could take being told multiple times over several days that she was doing everything wrong in her household, with her husband and with her child by people who had no clue what they were talking about.

There was a remote possibility that Mary Ann and Frank had managed through some miracle to acquire some manners and realize it was rude to criticize your hostess. Even if that were the case, Ann was fairly certain two or three days couldn't possibly go by without Frank making at least one comment about how Ann, deep down, really enjoyed being raped. At that point, Ann was sure, there would be either a well-placed fist in or cane across Frank's face. And in no universe was having the best man trying to get out on bail for the wedding a good thing.

So, Danielle's family stayed at the hotel.

* * *

The day of the wedding was overcast and cold, but not frigid. It snowed a little, but not enough to stick to the roads, so driving wasn't hazardous. The light dusting sparkled on the snow mounds, and helped cover the snow beneath it that was dirty from the road salt and the sand.

Chase wished he had the money to take everyone to a Caribbean island for the wedding and a little vacation. If his father had left him more than bad memories, he could have.

Chase didn't actually hate his stepmother. He really couldn't detest her personally, since he hardly knew her. It was more situational than that. He hated that his dad left his mom for her, and he hated that his dad wanted to spend time with her instead of him, and he also resented that she wound up with all the money.

And it wasn't just that it made Chase poor as a result. Sure, he wasn't fond of having to settle for basic cable, or get coffee at the Starbucks only once a week, but that really wasn't so awful. And, Chase could have picked a more lucrative specialty like plastic surgery or urology if he really wanted to pursue wealth.

It was as least as much about the principle of the thing. Chase hadn't exactly been close to his father, but whose fault was that? Not Chase's. And hadn't Chase done pretty much everything his father wanted him to do? He left the seminary to become a doctor, just like his father. And, he really wasn't that excited to leave his friends, well, at least, his professional acquaintances, to come to the U.S., but he done it at Rowan's urging. Chase had even reconciled, to an extent, with his father when Rowan had come to that conference when he was dying.

And Chase didn't even expect to get the entire inheritance. He would have been fine, well, okay, with splitting it with his stepmother. So, why had Chase's father decided that Chase should get nothing?

Was that Rowan's last chance to stick in the knife, from beyond the grave? That seemed like an overly hostile interpretation, even with the problems in their relationship. Chase knew he hadn't been a perfect kid, but neither was any other child. He had known people who were a lot more disrespectful and even hateful towards their parents, with much less provocation on their side than Chase had. So, why would Rowan feel the need to hurt him like that?

Maybe it wasn't that. Maybe there was supposed to be some lesson in it. But what could that possibly be? To stand on his own two feet? Not to expect help from anyone else? Possibly, but that was rather harsh. And, wasn't Rowan the one who had pulled strings to get him to work for House? Having to move thousands of miles from his home, for crappy pay, for long hours, in working conditions that involved breaking and entering, exposure to toxins and other hazardous conditions, for a boss who was, most of the time, totally impossible. Wasn't that lesson enough?

It had to be something else. Chase thought about it some more, and he wondered how much Rowan had found out during his last visit. Chase had barely talked to his father, but House had seen enough to figure out that Rowan had cancer and was most likely terminal. What else had they talked about? Chase could ask House, but he was almost positive House wouldn't tell him, even after all this time.

And maybe there was nothing to tell him because they hadn't really said anything of importance to each other. Maybe Rowan was being observant, too. Had he seen any connection between Chase and House? Had he noticed how Chase and House really felt about each other, underneath all the sarcasm and snark? Was Rowan resentful of the relationship between House and Chase? Had that made Rowan angry or regretful or jealous and had that caused him to leave Chase out of his will?

Well, Rowan was dead and Chase was pretty sure his stepmother either wouldn't know or wouldn't be inclined to tell Chase if she did. So, that was that. And Chase was embarking on a new life. His old demons would never completely go away, but, that didn't mean he couldn't be happy now. He and Danielle would find their way, he was sure of it.

* * *

"Wow, what a sourpuss," House remarked to Chase as they stood waiting for Ann and Danielle to come down the aisle.

"You mean Aunt Rita?" Chase questioned.

"Well, Foreman hardly looks thrilled, either, but he's more bored than pissed. Anyway, why is the old broad so testy?"

"She's a devout Catholic – "

"And they're just naturally angry?"

"To some extent, yes. But, in this case, I think it's because she doesn't approve."

"Of what?"

"Well, both Danielle and I are already divorced, which is a huge sin. And now, we're getting re-married, so that means automatic ex-communication for both of us."

"You're getting booted from your church over this? Seriously?"

"Those are the rules."

"Really? A religious organization that protects priests that diddle children, but you can't get re-married without being ejected. That's whacked."

"Why do you think Dani and I are no longer members?"

"I'd kind of hoped you both realized all that religious stuff is just bullshit, but I guess it will take some time for you to come to your senses."

"Nothing quite as charming as a cynical atheist who isn't shy about expressing his views."

"What does that mean?"

"Just an observation. Still, if I were you, I wouldn't attend any fundamentalist prayer meetings if you wanted to survive intact."

"Unless I'm kidnapped and dragged there against my will, not really a problem for me."

Chase and House stopped talking as the band began to play the processional music. It sounded very stately and proper, but there was something about the tune that nagged at House's brain. It only took a moment for him to realize it was "Superfreak." Despite all his efforts, at that moment, he simply couldn't keep himself from smiling, even just a little bit. Chase and Danielle had a sense of humor, if nothing else.

Ann came down the aisle first. She was wearing a deep green dress with shirred sleeves that covered her arms to just past her elbow. It had a simple rounded neckline that was cut low enough to display her lovely bosom. It had a fitted bodice that curved around her breasts, pulled in at the waist and flared out slightly to rest just above her hips. The skirt attached was gathered and came down to just below her knees. House began to think of how much fun it was going to be to remove this clothing later. He was pulled back from his thoughts by the entrance of the bride.

House had always thought Danielle was attractive, given her size. When he saw her that day, he stopped adding the qualifiers. She was, simply, beautiful. Her dress was the same style as Ann's – same sleeves, same neckline, same fitted bodice and slightly flared skirt, but it was gold. A sparkling, luminous gold that seized any light that dared to come anywhere near it, from the weak winter sun coming through the windows to the pale fluorescents buried in the hotel ceiling to the chandeliers hanging in the room.

As a result, Danielle glowed – her skin and eyes sparkled and even outshone the dress. If House was dazzled, he couldn't imagine how Chase would react, and he turned to look at him. _Deer caught in the headlights_, House thought and smiled to himself. He snuck a glance at Ann standing off to the other side and saw her looking at Chase's reaction and grinning, too.

Danielle took her place beside Chase and the ceremony began. It was mercifully short. Like House and Ann, Chase and Danielle had decided not to write their own vows. House didn't know why; he was just glad he wouldn't have to stand up through it.

Their kiss was deep, long and passionate, and they were beaming as they walked up the aisle between the chairs. Ann and House followed slowly behind, so House could minimize his limp.

The dreaded formal pictures were completed quickly. This photographer was female, and seemed to get that it was a second wedding for both participants, and that they weren't inclined to buy some big frou-frou wedding album. So, she kept the posed pictures to a minimum and went for more candid shots.

This allowed House more time to eat the appetizers, so he was pleased. The food wasn't as good as the food at House and Ann's wedding, but, Ann had looked long and hard for their caterer, and Danielle and Chase had to accept the food provided by the venue. As far hotel food was concerned, it wasn't bad. House had certainly eaten much worse at the medical conferences he had attended over the years.

* * *

Shortly after dinner, Ann stood up at the main table.

"Since all of you know my history with Danielle, I won't spend any time talking about that, other than to say she is the only sister I've ever had and the only one I ever wanted. I have to say I feel a little smug today, if only because I did have a little something to do with these two people getting together. But, what makes me even more pleased is how happy they are. Finding your soul mate isn't an easy task, that's for sure. But, when you do, it's the fulfillment of a deep longing every human possesses. And I speak from personal experience," Ann smiled at House, who looked away, trying to avoid appearing embarrassed in front of his team. "Not to mention it usually results in some pretty hot sex. Anyway, here's to Dani and Robert. May you have a long, happy life together."

House got up next. "I'm really crappy at saying anything profound, just to set your expectations properly. And, I have no wisdom about the completion one achieves in finding one's soul mate. What I do know is how it feels when you get home at night, and there's someone there waiting for you, who actually wants to see you. Someone who will feed you, and who wants to sleep with you without money changing hands. Yes, it's stultifying-ly domestic, but it also happens to be one of the best feelings you can have. So, to Chase and Danielle, may you spend the rest of your lives in utterly ordinary domestic bliss."

Then it was Danielle's turn. "Robert, you are the sexiest man on earth. Given how beautiful you look, I don't think I'll get a lot of arguments about that. What might make people curious, though, is why you're with someone who looks like me. I can't explain it. But it really doesn't matter because I know you love me. And, since your life hasn't exactly been filled with love and acceptance up to this point, it's also an awesome responsibility to take on that love. But, I promise I will always cherish it and keep it, because I love you."

Finally, Chase stood. "First of all, you are beautiful, Dani - today, even more than usual. But, on any day you are pretty and sexy and I don't think I'll ever get enough of you. And the inside is even more beautiful – loving, warm, and kind. The way you see me is different than anyone else ever has – you think I'm smart and brave and worth loving. I intend to live up to that. And I'm glad I'll have the rest of my life to try. I love you, too."

* * *

Ann left her spot at the table and went up on the small platform where the band was warming up for the next set. The bandleader announced that it was Chase and Danielle's first dance. Ann waited for the upbeat opening bars and began to sing:

_From the dark end of the street, baby  
To the bright side of the road  
We'll be lovers, lovers once again  
On the bright side of the road_

_Darlin' take my hand_  
_You can help me share this load_  
_From the dark end of the street_  
_To the bright side of the road_

_And into this life we're born_  
_Baby, sometimes we don't know why_  
_And it goes by so, oh so fast_  
_It's like the twinkling of an eye_

_Let's enjoy it while we can_  
_Little darlin' come along_  
_Take my hand into that sunny land_  
_On the bright side of the road_

_Yeah, into this life we're born_  
_Sometimes we don't know why_  
_It all seems to go by so fast_  
_In the twinkling of an eye_

_Let's enjoy it while we can_  
_Oh my lover come along_  
_From the dark end of the street_  
_To the bright side of the road_

_From the dark and lonely street_  
_To the bright side of the road_  
_We'll be lovers once again_  
_On the bright side of the road_

_From the dark and lonely street_  
_To the bright side of the road_  
_We'll be lovers, lovers once again_  
_On the bright side of the road_

_We'll be lovers once again_  
_On the bright side of the road_  
_We'll be lovers once again_  
_On the bright side of the road*_

House watched, seated at the table. Every able-bodied person was up dancing while he was on the sidelines. Stupid leg. The only thing that made it better was that his partner couldn't have danced with him even if he weren't crippled, because she was singing.

House pondered that for a minute. The lead singer of the band was perfectly capable of singing the song. So, why did Chase and Danielle request Ann? Was it at all possible that they had arranged for Ann to sing, giving him the legitimate excuse to sit it out because his significant other wasn't available?

House ruminated on that thought for a while and decided it wasn't worth the gray matter he was expending on it. But, that didn't stop a feeling of gratitude from coming over him.

After the song was finished, Ann walked over to the table where House was sitting just as a slower song started. She didn't ask him anything; she merely extended her hand. House grunted and got up, taking her hand in his. They walked to the dance floor and held each other. And nothing else mattered.

* * *

Foreman and Taub had taken Chase outside to smoke cigars. Ann was talking to Remy, Amanda and Martha. Danielle decided to head back to the main table and get off of her feet for a bit.

"How come you're not out with your guys, smoking cigars?" Danielle asked House, who was sitting there, playing a game on his i-phone.

"The obvious answer is that standing for long periods in the cold doesn't make my leg very happy."

"And what's the not-obvious answer?"

"That my employees can't commiserate about what a prick of a boss they have with me standing right there."

"How thoughtful of you to give them that opportunity."

"Yep, I'm a nice guy. For a prick, that is."

There was a brief pause.

"So, how long have you been trying?"

"What?"

"How long has Chase been trying to knock you up?"

Danielle couldn't help but smile at House's phrasing of the question.

"What's so funny?" House inquired.

"Nothing," Danielle responded. "I just like the way you asked me."

"You didn't find it offensive?"

"Look at my family. Do you think they ever observe the social niceties?"

"I would guess not. How did you wind up with these people, anyway?"

"What to do mean? They're my father's family – "

"And you're sure the man that raised you is actually your father?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, the man that my mother was married to wasn't my biological father."

"Wow. I had no idea."

"It's not something I 'share' with a lot of people, and Annie respects my privacy."

"What happened? I mean, how do you know?"

"I figured out the man I thought was my dad was away on assignment when I was conceived, and I look like a family friend."

"Are you sure?"

"I confirmed it with DNA testing from a sample I got at the funeral."

"So your mom cheated on your dad, um, I mean, her husband?"

"It certainly seems like it."

"So, are you saying my mom cheated on my dad? I don't think so."

"Hey, I'm just trying to look at things objectively. You seem like an outlier in your family."

"No, I'm not."

"Please. At a minimum, you've got fifty IQ points on these people. The only way they could improve their looks would be to put bags over their heads, and I don't know if you happened to look at yourself in the mirror today, but you're stunning. You're open-minded and fair, and they're such bigots they make Rick Santorum look like he belongs in a gay pride parade."

"I take your point, I guess. I still don't think my mom cheated on my dad."

"Fine, you can deal with it or not. Anyway, let's get back to the real topic at hand, what are your doing about your fertility problems?"

"What problems? My doctor said we needed to try for six months – "

"Here's a little tip about OB/GYNs. In the developed world in the twenty-first century, especially with well-educated, affluent patients, being a baby doctor is easier by far than being a car mechanic. So, the profession doesn't exactly attract the best and the brightest."

"I know Ann didn't like her doctor, but I'm not going to him."

"Yes, he was hardly the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact, he didn't even make into the shed, although he was a tool. But, that's not my point."

"Okay, what is?"

"OB/GYNs, in nearly all cases, are not smart enough to be good diagnosticians."

"Why would we need a diagnostician?"

"Well, assuming Chase isn't firing blanks, you don't need to wait for six months to see if you get pregnant."

"Why?"

"You're wearing a decent amount of make-up today."

"And this has what exactly to do with my getting pregnant?

"Work with me. Make-up. A lot. Why?"

"It's my wedding day and I want to look good in the photographs. If you don't wear enough make-up, you look washed out."

"I'm not talking about your lipstick, I'm talking about the stuff you used on your skin."

"You mean my foundation?"

"I'm a straight guy, so I have no idea what you call it. All I know is it looks like you're trying to cover up a breakout."

"Yes, I am."

"Why do you think your skin thinks you're thirteen instead of thirty-something?"

"Stress?"

"Well, nothing like a wedding with the family from hell to cause anxiety, that's true, but do you ever get acne when you're not an emotional wreck at the thought of marrying Chase?"

"I'd protest that, but I'm too curious to see where you're going with this. Yes, I do have fairly frequent problems with acne."

"Do you need to shave?"

"Since this isn't Europe, yes, I need to shave."

"I'm not talking about your legs and pits; I'm talking about your face."

"I'd rather not say."

"I'm a doctor. Patient confidentiality."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Only five hundred of my closest friends."

"That's reassuring."

"Just spill it, will you?"

"Yes, I do have hair on my upper lip and my chin."

"Is it dark and is there a lot of it?"

"Well, I'm not planning to join the circus, but I do have to go to get it waxed, and shave in-between."

"Uh-huh."

"What?"

"Go to your quack of an OB/GYN and tell him or her you need to start fertility meds now. And, if he or she is unwilling to do that, find someone who will."

"What? Why?"

"You should probably have an exam, blood work, and an ultrasound to confirm, but you have poly-cystic ovary syndrome."

"What's that?"

"You know that when your ovaries release eggs, they form a follicle that ruptures."

"Yes."

"Well, in this syndrome, in addition to the monthly follicle, the ovaries form cysts."

"It's not cancer or anything, right?"

"No, the cysts are benign. But they're caused by a hormonal imbalance, which causes infertility, and other symptoms like acne, facial hair, irregular periods, weight gain, and difficulty losing weight."

"Wow, no wonder I can starve myself, exercise until I drop, and only lose one or two pounds a month."

"Yeah, that would explain it."

"And my gynecologist never caught this?"

"I told you, they aren't exactly brilliant, or even competent, diagnosticians."

"I guess. You said the treatment was fertility meds?"

"There are other treatments to address the symptoms, but the drugs aren't recommended if you're trying to get pregnant."

"Aren't fertility drugs expensive? And they usually aren't covered by insurance, are they?"

"PCOS is a medical condition that can increase your risk of diabetes. Treating it should be covered under your plan."

"I work for a small company, and we have pretty bare-bones insurance coverage."

"I assume you're going to go on Chase's plan. He's got pretty decent coverage."

"I forgot about that."

"Yeah, right. You don't fool me. You're just marrying him for his health insurance."

"That, and the fact that just thinking about him turns me into puddles of wanton desire."

"Okay, TMI."

"It looks like Frank is heading over here, so we better stop talking about this now, anyway."

"Given the level of his IQ, I'm pretty sure the entire concept would elude him, but, whatever you say."

* * *

Wilson and Sarah had been dancing quite a bit, and they decided they would take a little break and head to the hotel bar for a drink.

Wilson's concern that he would do his usual thing and instantly fall for the woman he was with seemed like it wouldn't happen this time. Maybe the therapy was working, a little. At least it made him pause and think about what he was doing, if nothing else.

It certainly helped that Wilson didn't find himself particularly attracted to Sarah. Physically, she didn't do a lot for him. She didn't have much of a figure, and she wasn't exactly pretty, as far as he was concerned. Of course, Bonnie had no body and not particularly good looks, but she gave off that "helpless" vibe that Wilson still found very appealing, although he was working on figuring out why. Sarah had no such vibe coming off of her. In fact, she was supremely confident, certainly about her work. It reminded Wilson a little bit of Amber, without the intense need to "take the hill" that Amber always displayed.

Wilson thought about that as he was talking to Sarah. He'd never considered that tendency to be anything but strength, which, he thought, made Amber different than his ex-wives. But, he wasn't so sure any more. He was beginning to think that Amber's need to win at all costs was actually a display of weakness. Being able to tolerate losing every once and a while was certainly a sign of maturity, if not courage, and not being able to tolerate it was really an indication of some deep-seated insecurities.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Sarah brought Wilson back to their conversation.

"Sorry," Wilson said. "I was just thinking of someone else."

"Well, that's a real ego booster."

"I didn't mean – "

"Forget it. I was just busting on you."

"Really?"

"I'm a professor. And even though I don't have to teach any more, I was a teaching assistant for a few years. I'm used to people tuning me out, believe me."

"That seems rather harsh."

"Hey, it's the truth. I did get the occasional kid fired up about immunology and research, but most of my students were pre-med, and all they wanted was to get through the course with the minimal work required to get an 'A' for their transcript so they could get into med school."

"Damned pre-med students!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to run down your former academic position."

"Don't worry about it. I was even more of a nerd. I wanted to get the 'A' and actually learn something."

"How quaint."

There was a pause.

"So, you're an oncologist, huh?"

"Yes."

"Any good?"

"You'd have to ask my patients that, but I think so."

"Well, I might be coming to see you at some point."

"What? Why? Do you have cancer?"

"No, but both my parents were dead by the time I was ten because of it. And my uncle died from it about ten years ago. I think my grandparents may have died from it, too, although that's a little sketchier, just because my parents weren't around to tell me. So, it's only a matter of time, I'm sure."

"That's not necessarily the case. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"Well, I try to eat right and exercise, so I can maintain my weight, and I don't smoke. I like the occasional glass of wine – " Sarah paused to raise her glass of merlot, "but I'm not a big drinker."

"Exposure to toxins?"

"Not any more. I have students and lab techs for that."

"Do you keep up on preventative exams? Mammograms? Colonoscopies?"

"Yeah, I've missed a few here and there when my schedule got tight, but I'm usually pretty good."

"Pretty good doesn't sound like good enough with your family history. You need to keep on top of that stuff."

"Yes, _Doctor_ Wilson."

"Sorry. Occupational hazard."

"That's okay. I was boring you with my research earlier. Makes us even, I think."

"Your research isn't boring, by the way."

"Thanks. And your expressing concern about me doesn't bother me."

"I've been told I can be overbearing in that department."

"And I've been called pedantic."

They smiled at each other.

"Ann told me you've never been married," Wilson noted. After he'd said it, he wasn't sure if he should have brought it up. But, he was trying not to be nice just for the sake of it, and he was curious. In any case, Sarah didn't strike him as fragile or reticent, so he figured she'd tell him if she didn't want to talk about it.

"Nope," she replied simply.

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"A whole bunch of things. If I ever had the fantasy that someone would rescue me, I wasn't aware of it. I think having my parents die when I was so young didn't allow me the luxury of thinking there would be someone there to take care of me."

"Okay."

"And a lot of it is career focus. It took me years to have any free time, between my course load, my thesis, teaching classes and doing research, I just didn't have time to date.

"Uh-huh."

"I suppose the 'I never had time' argument is kind of lame, in a way. If I wanted a relationship, I'd have made time for it, I guess. Maybe it's because I never met anyone that I really wanted to be attached to."

"I take it you're not a virgin, though." Wilson was amazed he said that. For a moment, he felt like he was channeling House.

"Hell, no!" Sarah replied. "Not that I sleep around, but I've been with a few men here and there."

"Nothing long term?"

"I dated a guy on and off for a year after I finished my second post doc, but we decided it wouldn't be exclusive. I eventually found out that meant he felt free to go after anything in a skirt, so I broke it off."

"A little jealous?"

"No. As I said, it wasn't that kind of relationship. To be brutally honest, I was just worried about catching something."

"That's very practical of you."

"I'm not really the swooning, romantic type, as you've probably figured out by now."

"So, you've never met 'Mr. Right'?"

That comment elicited a snort of derision from Sarah, and her reaction reminded Wilson of House.

"And what about you?" Sarah questioned. "You've been married _three_ times?"

"Yes, and I almost got back together with one of my exes a couple of years ago."

"Seriously?"

"This is the point where you tell me it was all kinds of dumb."

"Um, probably not. I don't know you well enough to be running your personal life. Although, I have to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"After it didn't work, say, twice, why did you keep trying?"

"Cock-eyed optimism?"

"I guess that's one interpretation . . . "

"Actually, I'm trying to work that out with my therapist."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

"As a scientist, I have tremendous respect for Einstein."

"Excuse me?"

"You know his definition of insanity, right? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm nuts?"

"In your own unique, no doubt fascinating way, yes."

"Well, as long as I'm a standout among the nut cases, I guess that's okay."

"Say it loud and proud. Oh, and it's good that you're seeing a therapist and trying to break the pattern."

"Have you ever been in therapy?"

"Nope."

"With everything that happened to you as a kid, you didn't consider dealing with that?"

"I did consider it."

"But you didn't go. How come?"

"I could give you the 'I was too busy' bullshit again, but, to be honest, I'm just too scared."

"It's never calming to contemplate looking under one's emotional rocks to see what might crawl out."

"And with that metaphor in mind, I've decided I'm never going."

"Sorry, I –"

"Just kidding. I try not to make important life decisions based upon reactions to metaphors from people I hardly know."

"Seems like a reasonable policy."

"We should probably be getting back."

"Yeah. Listen, I know we're not going to be going out or anything, but, do you think we could exchange phone numbers and e-mail addresses?"

"Why?"

"I like you. I think we could become friends."

"Just to set your expectations properly, I'm not really good about keeping up with e-mails and phone calls. I tend to get absorbed in my research and in pursuing grants and not respond. I've lost a few friends over it. Not that I have a lot of friends to spare."

"My social life isn't exactly jumping, either. I tend to get too involved with my patients and as a department head, I have a lot of paperwork, so I don't have a lot of free time. Although, I am trying to change that."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt me to spend more time doing something besides work, either."

"Good."

They exchanged information and returned to the reception.

* * *

"Did it feel any different to you?" Danielle asked as they lay in bed after consummating their marriage. They were traveling in the morning and were spending their wedding night in their apartment.

"No," Chase replied as he pulled Danielle closer.

"I suppose it would help if we weren't in our own bed."

"I'm not complaining."

"Don't you want more variety or excitement?"

"My childhood was exciting enough, thank you. I never knew when I'd come home to find my mom had spent all our money on booze and I'd be skipping dinner that night or the power would be turned off because she'd 'forgotten' to pay the bill, or that she finally drank herself to death."

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It wasn't your fault. And there's nothing we can do about it now, anyway."

"I wish there were."

"You genuinely love me. That makes it hurt a lot less."

"I'm glad."

"Let's talk about something else. Are you psyched to get away?"

"Yes. It'll be nice to get a break from the snow and the cold for a week."

"You're going to like the resort. It has a spa and it's on the beach. We can get massages and go for walks at sunrise or sunset. And our room is on the twelfth floor, and it has a balcony facing the ocean."

"Perfect for cigars, sex and stargazing."

"Don't do that. I'm trying to get some sleep and you're getting me hard again."

"Sorry. Listen, Greg and I were talking at the wedding and he told me something."

"What? Was he sharing my most embarrassing moments as his employee?"

"No. But, it's a great idea to ask him about that after we get back."

"Don't you dare!"

"I'm just teasing you, Robert, you know that."

"Okay. So, what were you two talking about?"

"He said we shouldn't wait for six months to see if I get pregnant. He said I should go to my OB/GYN as soon as we got back and have some tests."

"And then he said that you should be prescribed fertility meds."

"Yes-"

"And he thinks you have poly-cystic ovary syndrome, doesn't he?"

"How do you know that?"

"I was suspecting it myself, since you have all the symptoms."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"We were planning the wedding, and trying to deal with, um, everything, and I didn't want to give you one more thing to worry about. Are you mad at me?"

"No. You're right that I wouldn't have had time to deal with it. Do you think I can be helped? I mean, do you think we'll be able to have a baby?"

"I don't know. There's no reason to think it won't be successful. And, even if we can't have a baby, we can adopt."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Why? Do you have a problem with adoption?"

"Not at all. Of course, my first choice is to have beautiful babies who look just like their gorgeous father. If that doesn't work, I would love to adopt."

"Then why did you say you weren't sure?"

"I had a co-worker in Texas who couldn't have children. She tried to adopt but it was difficult. You have to have a birth mother or birth parents pick you. That's where there could be problems."

"Because I'm not a U.S. citizen? Or because I wasn't born here?"

"I don't think that would be a big deal. I was thinking more about them not picking me."

"Why?"

"I'm fat."

"So?"

"So, they might think I'm not healthy."

"You can have a physical and show that you're fine."

"They might also be worried that I'll develop health problems later."

"Somehow, I don't think a pregnant fifteen-year-old is going to be thinking long-term enough to wonder if you might develop type-two diabetes or a heart condition in thirty years."

"Maybe not. But, she sure is going to think I'm not as pretty as the skinny women I'm competing with to adopt her child."

"You are pretty. I almost gasped out loud today when I saw you coming down the aisle, you were so beautiful."

"Not everyone sees me the way you do."

"The world is full of idiots. Oh, my God."

"What?"

"I sound just like House."

"And you diagnosed me, too."

"That's depressing."

"Hey, there are worse role models than Greg."

Chase was about to vigorously dispute that when he realized that Danielle was right.

"Let's deal with all this after the honeymoon, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They drifted off to sleep looking forward to their time away together.

_*Van Morrison_


	66. Chapter 66

A/N: I wasn't planning to write anything about Chase and Danielle's honeymoon and other issues, but glennie requested it, and, after the hours of pleasure she's given me with her stories, I thought I owed it to her to try, at least. So, if you're not fond of this little detour, PM glennie, not me! Seriously, I hope you like this.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own House, but the OCs are mine.

"So, how long do we have for lunch?" Danielle asked as she and Ann slipped into a booth in the back of the Greek restaurant where they were meeting that Saturday for lunch. Danielle and Chase had been back for two weeks and this was the first opportunity Ann and Danielle had to get together.

"Well, David has Greg and James looking after him, so I shouldn't push it much past three," Ann replied, "Unless I want to get back to a disaster."

"How many highly trained doctors does it take to watch a baby?" Danielle joked.

"I wish I had some witty retort to that, but I'm just too tired these days. I can't believe you've been back for this long and we haven't had the chance to talk. I'm dying to know all the details."

"_All_ the details?"

"Yeah."

"How much information are we talking about here? This was a honeymoon after, all."

"Not much. Just how many times you had sex per day, the number of orgasms per time for each of you, the total number of orgasms (although I could probably do the math myself on that), whether you did anything exhibitionist like having sex on the beach, if you indulged any fetishes, and, if so, whose they were, if there were any devices used, or props or costumes, if you invited anyone to join you, and, if so, how many people. Oh, I'm guessing it would be people and not animals, but I probably shouldn't make that assumption - "

"Annie! This is a public place!"

"There's no one anywhere near our table."

"Gee, I wonder why . . . "

"You're thinking this discussion might make people want to get away, rather like that discussion two Thanksgivings ago about the guys' penises?"

"So, you're busting on me?"

"Was there ever any doubt? Although, if you wanted to provide some details, I wouldn't be adverse to that."

"Well, I will confirm it was just the two of us – no other mammals of any kind were involved."

"Okay, and?"

"Well, it was pretty intense. You don't usually get a full week alone with your significant other – "

"Husband – "

"Yes, husband. I'm still getting used to calling him that."

"But was good, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Completely different from last time, thank goodness."

"Why? What happened last time?"

"I didn't tell anyone because it was too embarrassing, but I caught my ex flirting with another woman."

"On your _honeymoon_?"

"Yeah. I should have dumped the loser the minute we got back, but I was too stupid."

"You were young and your self-esteem had taken a beating before it happened. You thought you had to settle for what you could get, and that's exactly what you did."

"Like I said, stupid."

"More like understandably misguided, but let's move on. So, the sex this time . . . "

"Was fantastic. Not that that was a surprise."

"I know. It's great when you both love and want each other, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"You're still not giving me any details."

"Annie!"

"Come on, throw me a bone here. I'm the mother of an infant. We don't get a lot. I have to live vicariously."

"Please! I know you and Greg. So, you're down to only twice a day now, instead of four or five times?"

"Hardly."

"You're not having problems are you?"

"No. I'm just too damn tired. And stop deflecting. Details, please."

"Well, it was frequent and loving and close and mind blowing."

"Any other kind of blowing?"

"Annie!"

"Oh, come on!"

"Well, you can tell from my size that I'm quite oral . . . "

"And what about Robert?"

"Let's just say he kept up with me and then some."

"Yeah, sister!"

Danielle blushed a little.

"Okay, what about props and toys?"

"This is getting really embarrassing . . . "

"Which means there must have been some! Tell me!"

"Um, we had to go to the Walmart to get batteries. Twice."

"Excellent. Costumes?"

"Didn't bother. We wouldn't have been wearing them for more than a couple of minutes, anyway."

"Mmm. You said there was only the two of you, so no group sex or bestiality. What else? Oh, exhibitionism."

"No, we confined our activities to our room and the balcony at night."

"Well, someone could have seen you there."

"We made sure the lights were out."

"Damn. You're sure no one saw you?"

A flash of pain passed across Danielle's face. If she were with anyone but Ann, he or she most likely wouldn't have seen it. But Ann did. "What's wrong?"

"It's not important."

"If it matters to you, it is. Tell me."

"It happened after we were there a few days. It was late afternoon and we were lying next to each other on a blanket on the beach under an umbrella. We had our arms around each other and we were dozing."

"Uh-huh."

"This young girl and her mother walked by and the child said, "Mommy, why is that hot guy touching that big, fat woman?"

"Oh, Dani – "

"It's okay; it's not like it's anything I haven't heard a million times."

"But, still . . . what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Robert, he . . . "

"Yes?"

"He pulled me even closer and he kissed me."

"A peck on the cheek, or – "

"Nope. A serious lip lock."

"How incredibly sweet."

"We heard the woman say, 'I think they're touching each other because they're in love.' "

"Wow."

"Yeah. It turned out pretty well."

There was a pause as Ann and Danielle ate some of the food the waitress had brought to the table.

"Okay," Ann began the conversation again. "Now I want the really intimate things."

"I already told you about the sex. What are you talking about?" Danielle questioned.

"Don't be coy with me, sister. I want some emotional stuff."

"I'm not sure I can . . . "

"What do you mean? Open mouth, start speaking, emotional stuff. Go."

"I'm not sure Robert would want me to share this."

"Did he say that you shouldn't tell me?"

"Well, not specifically."

"And he knows we're having lunch, right?"

"Yes . . . "

"Well, then why wouldn't he expect we'd talk about it?"

"I guess I could share a little bit . . . "

"_Yes!_ Um, I mean, continue."

"Well, you and I have talked a lot about our childhoods. You know pretty much everything there is to know about mine, so . . . "

"You're about to tell me about his. Go."

"I'm pretty sure he hasn't told me everything, but I think it was pretty bad. I don't know when his mother started drinking heavily, but I think he grew up pretty fast once she did."

"I'll bet. I was pretty useless when I was drinking. I can't imagine trying to take care of a child."

"Actually, he became the caretaker. He cleaned, he made the meals, he did the laundry, and he took out the garbage."

"How old was he?"

"He didn't say exactly, but I think he was pretty young. Maybe seven or eight."

"Poor kid."

"He'd just laugh if you said that. He'd say he's a survivor, and that he's tough."

"He must be tough."

"You mean because of his childhood?"

"That, and he came how many thousand miles to a place he'd never been before, to live in a different culture, to work with people he didn't know, and with no friends or family?"

"He'd probably say he had no friends or family where he left, so what difference did it make?"

"That's so sad."

"It is, but it's also a measure of how strong he is. How intense his values are. What a decent man he is."

"Well, that's good to know."

"What's good to know?"

"That you didn't just fall for some pretty boy. That there's a genuine person there."

"You know, it's funny, but I've spent my life dealing with the assumptions people make about me– I'm fat, so I must be stupid, lazy, or weak. But people make assumptions about him, too. That he's vapid, vain, or shallow. Annie, he's none of those things. He's intelligent, deep, and beautiful, inside and out."

"_And I've got to know, know, body and soul, that you've got no doubt, inside and out_," Ann sang softly.

Danielle was reminded that her friend, her _sister_, had a strong, lovely soprano. She forgot Ann's talent sometimes, and felt badly about that. She had nothing to offer musically herself, other than being a good audience. "That was lovely, Annie. Can you sing some more?"

"Maybe the next time we get to a bar that has karaoke."

"Or the next time I'm over when you sing David to sleep. I'll hear you over the monitor."

"You sound sad."

"More like wistful, I think."

"About what?"

"About not being able to sing a baby to sleep, at least without causing him or her nightmares."

"You can't be that bad."

"What's the expression? I can't carry a tune in a bucket."

"I bet you can hum, and that's all they need, to feel your voice. Hey, speaking of a baby, you've been to the doctor, right?"

"Yes. When we first arrived in Florida, I called the OB/GYN that Robert and Greg recommended. We set up an appointment for the week we got back. He did a bunch of tests – blood work, ultrasounds, etc. And when he was done, he said my symptoms did sound like PCOS. I asked him when I was going to get started on the fertility meds. He said I wasn't, at least not for a few months."

"What? Why not?"

"He said they don't prescribe fertility meds for women who are already pregnant."

For the first time since they'd arrived at the restaurant, there was silence. Ann was looking down at the table. Danielle thought Ann would be happy for her, but she couldn't tell, since she couldn't really see Ann's face.

"Annie?" she questioned tentatively.

Ann looked up. Her face was twisted and Danielle knew she was about to let out a sob.

"Oh, Dani," she croaked as the sob escaped and the tears started down her face.

That was all it took to get Danielle going. As her tears began to slide down her cheeks, she got up, moved over to Ann's side of the booth. They held each other and cried.

Their waitress returned to ask them how they liked the food.

"Is everything okay?" the nineteen-year-old woman inquired, completely floored by the sight of two middle-aged women bawling at one of her tables.

"It's fine," Ann said, catching her breath as best she could.

"You're sure?" the waitress asked.

"We're just really happy," Danielle sniffled.

"Oh, okay," the waitress said, sounding completely confused. "I'll just let you finish your meal, then."

She practically ran to another table to avoid having to deal with them any further.

Ann and Danielle went from weeping to giggling in a few seconds.

"When she comes back," Ann stated, "I say we tell her you're pregnant, and that we're planning a fall wedding."

Danielle's giggling blossomed into full-blown laughter. "Dammit, Annie! You know how iffy my continence is right now, and I didn't bring a change of clothes!"

"It's only going to get worse, trust me. I hope Robert finds Depends sexy."

"That's just gross. I do think he finds pregnant women sexy, at least judging how he's been so far."

"You go, girl! Is there anything you need to do, other than the usual - take your vitamins, eat right, get some exercise."

"I have an increased risk of miscarriage. If I were on glucophage to treat the PCOS, I would probably stay on that, but since I'm not, the doctor has me on progesterone."

"So, you're taking plls, then?"

"I wish. It's a shot."

"Well, if it's a small needle, that's not too terrible."

"It's an intramuscular injection, so that means it needs a big needle and I have to have it in my backside."

"Ouch."

"It's not that bad. And Robert does a really good job. No bleeding or bruising or anything."

"There are some advantages to being married to a doctor."

"Yeah."

"Well, let me know if you need anything, such as I can give it to you."

"You're really busy, Annie. Don't push yourself."

"I ought to be able to, I mean, you've helped me so much in the last year, I should – "

"No 'shoulds,' please. I just want us both to be healthy and happy."

"There's a goal."

Danielle went home to an afternoon of intense, loving sex with Chase. After what Ann had said, she knew she should appreciate it because things were going to change in a few months.

* * *

Ann got home to find the place mostly intact, and House cradling David in his arms.

"_Greg_ – " she began.

"What?" House asked defensively. He knew Ann wanted to get David to the point where they could leave him in his crib for little while, at least. "He was crying and drowning out the TV. I had no choice but to pick him up."

Ann was dubious about that assertion. "It wouldn't have killed him to let him cry a little and see if he would settle down."

"You know I can't do that, Annie," House admitted quietly.

Wilson sat on the other end of the couch with the remote in his hand. He appeared to be engrossed in whatever it was they had been watching on television.

"I can do it," Ann insisted as she held out her arms for the baby.

"I love you, Davy," House murmured as he kissed his son.

"Please!" Ann exclaimed in frustration. "I'm putting him in his crib, not selling him on the black market."

"Okay," House reluctantly agreed as he surrendered his son.

Ann checked before she put the baby in his crib and found House had changed David.

Ann reentered the living room and sat down next to House. "I guess you didn't mention the part that he was crying because he needed a clean diaper and you changed him."

"So?"

"So, after you did that, you very easily could have put him back in his crib."

"He'd been sleeping this morning, and I didn't want him to sleep all day and then not sleep tonight."

"He's three and a half months old."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"At this age, babies are supposed to sleep in the morning and the afternoon. They're called naps, Greg, as you well know."

"Whatever," House responded, slightly annoyed at being sussed out. "So, how was the honeymoon? Did you get any details about the sex?"

"Much intercourse, many, many orgasms, lots of oral, enough device usage to require battery replacements twice, minimal exhibitionism, no costumes, props, groups or animals."

"That's it? That's barely a weekend for us, and we're old and we have a kid."

"Quit exaggerating. Oh, and speaking of a child, I have even more interesting news."

"She's knocked up?"

"Yup."

"When is she due?"

"October."

"Does that mean she got pregnant on the honeymoon?"

"It's possible, although the doctor thinks it might have been just before that."

"Did the quack realize that even with the pregnancy, she still has PICOS?"

"Yes, he agreed she probably does have it."

"What is he doing about the increased risk of miscarriage?"

"She's taking progesterone shots."

"That hurts."

"Yeah, a big needle in her backside."

"It's not just that. The progesterone injection is oil-based, and it takes a lot of time to be injected. And it stings like hell, too."

"How many progesterone shots have you had, House?" Wilson asked sarcastically.

"Hey, they helped me when my cycles were irregular," House quipped. "I had to have B-12 injections when I was detoxing at Mayfield, and they're intramuscular and oil-based."

"Poor baby," Ann sympathized.

There was a pause in the conversation

"House, do you have anything to drink?" Wilson questioned.

"Hey, didn't you make this big thing at Christmas about how you were trying to cut back?" House answered Wilson's question with another.

"I'm not going to get drunk, I just want a drink. Since when did you become my mother?"

"Ooh, going for the really nasty put-downs right off the bat," House countered. "Some idiot client of Ann's gave us some bourbon for Christmas."

"He didn't know that neither of us can drink," Ann interjected.

"So what?" House responded. "Who gives booze any more? Is he trapped in a time warp or something?"

"What difference does it make what he gave us?"

"Well, It's good bourbon, so I'm sure he spend at least a hundred bucks on it."

"And . . . ?"

"Well, that money could have been spent on something more useful."

"Like?"

"How the hell should I know? A desk accessory, maybe. Solid brass, or, better yet, crystal with gold."

"Let me get this straight. Instead of wasting money on alcohol, it would have been better for him to buy an expensive bauble for your desk so you would have something to play with while you're at work?"

"Precisely."

Ann rolled her eyes and smiled. "I have to get dinner started."

She left the room and House got Wilson the bottle and a glass. They resumed watching television. House didn't want to be accused of being Wilson's mother again, so he didn't say anything, but he observed that Wilson was not limiting himself to one drink.

By dinnertime, Wilson was at least half in the bag. Even though he professed to like what Ann had cooked, he ate very little of it, choosing to drink his meal instead.

After dinner, House and Wilson returned to the living room to watch TV while Ann put away the leftovers and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She gave David a bath, nursed him, and rocked him for a while. House came in and kissed him goodnight. They put him in his crib. David was finally sleeping through the night.

As they returned to the living room, they saw Wilson pour himself another glass of bourbon.

"This isn't meant as a comment on anything you're doing," Ann stated, "But you have to give me your keys. You're not driving anywhere tonight."

"F-fine," Wilson slurred as he clumsily fished his keys out of his pocket. His hand wavered as he handed them over to Ann

They watched an episode of "Dirty Jobs." When the commercials came on, Wilson decided to say something.

"Ya know, bein' a docter issa dirty job," Wilson noted drunkenly.

"Especially your kind of doctor," House observed, "All those patients having chemo and barfing all over you."

"Youf had some tough p-patients o'er th' years, Hous'."

"I've never had a patient puke on me."

"No, but quite-a few haf s-slugged ya."

"Not everyone can handle my unvarnished honesty."

"Tha' p-patient's husband tha' shot ya couldn'."

"That was a long time ago, Wilson."

"It's all p-part of yer fascinatin' p-past. So m'ny stories, so li'l tim'. Hey, I never heard 'bout thos' B-twelf' shots befor'. I haf this pi'ture in my head of Hous', leanin' over a table with his pan's 'round his ankl's, gettin' his hairy ass jabb'd by som' hot young nursie, and wigglin' tha' ass 'round while the stuf' work'd in. Majer shrinkage there, huh, Hous'? I bet ya' coudn' find your cock wif a magnifyin' glas af'er that. Too funny! An' speakin' of his wood, ya know 'bout when he couldn' pee, don'cha?" Wilson asked Ann.

"What?" Ann questioned, completely taken aback. She would have stopped Wilson right there had she not been so totally shocked by what Wilson had already said.

"_Wilson_," House growled in warning.

"Ya mean, he nev'r tol' ya 'bout tha'?" Wilson laughed. "He was takin' too much Vicodin, as usu'l, and the muscle tha' lets the p-piss out shut down. Like a idiot, he wait'd, wha', two, three _days_, befor' he ask'd me for a 'script. When that didn' werk, he was so humil-humiliat'd at not bein' able to piss, the dam' fool took more Vicodin an' shov'd a cath'ter up his own dick in his bafroom at hom'. He wen' to s-sleep and the tube pull'd outta his prick and he wet th' b-bed. Now there's a f-funny s-story."

Usually, House was able to hide his feelings pretty well. However, he wasn't expecting Wilson to describe so vividly (and, sadly, so accurately) what had happened when he received those injections at Mayfield. It was only one of a series of indignities he had suffered there; still it was high on the list of mortifications.

He was also totally stunned that Wilson revealed the urination (or lack thereof) incident at that moment. He hadn't told Ann anything about this, simply because it was another in a long line of House's Not Proudest Moments. With the completely unexpected exposure of all that humiliation, House's expression hardened. He quickly rose from the couch and headed toward the master bedroom.

Of course, Ann had recovered from her shock, which was quickly being replaced by fury. She took the bottle and Wilson's now empty glass and headed toward the kitchen. Wilson heard her going out in the garage, and when she returned she was carrying a plastic bucket.

"I don't know what the hell you were trying to do tonight," Ann icily informed him, "Or why you were doing it, but, right now, I don't care. Pick a guest room, and don't try to make it to the toilet when you rolf. Do try to avoid hitting the bedding, and especially the bedroom floor. We're renting this place and I don't want to have to pay to replace the carpet when we move."

Ann handed the bucket to Wilson and followed him as he wobbled toward the back guest room. He took off his shoes, fumbled with the sheets and blanket, and crawled awkwardly into bed.

Ann insisted he keep the bucket within easy reach and retreated to her bedroom. She saw House curled up on his side of the bed, facing away from her.

She wasn't completely sure, but, between the way his breathing sounded, and knowing what had just happened, she was almost positive he wasn't sleeping, although she was even more sure he'd like her to think so. She grabbed a night shirt and went in the bathroom to wash up, brush her teeth and get changed. She put her clothes in the hamper and returned to the bedroom. She got in bed behind House and spooned against him. His immediate response was to pull away.

"You're sure you want to sleep with me?" he asked. His voice was harsh, and there was pain in it, too. "You don't mind being in bed with a guy with an inch-long dick who'll probably piss all over you in your sleep?"

"Even when you're not excited, your manhood is way bigger than an inch. And you're not incontinent," Ann insisted. "At least not for another thirty or forty years."

"Something to look forward to," House snorted. He slowly turned to face her. "Why doesn't this upset you more?"

"Believe me, I'm plenty pissed at Wilson right now, if you'll pardon the expression."

House smirked slightly, and then his face darkened again. "No, I mean the, um, stuff, about me."

"You were an addict and bad shit happened to you as a result. It's not a surprise or even that bad."

"Not that bad? How can you say that? In addition to all those mortifying moments in rehab, I was such an idiot that I had to shove a tube up my cock just to pee, and then I wet myself. How can that not be repulsive to you?"

"Oh, get over yourself. You were successful at rehab. And, after the catheter, um, thing, what did you do the next day? Get up, shower, get dressed, wash your sheets and go to work. At the very worst, you had to buy a new mattress. I had an addiction and one of the results was that I got raped in the mouth and the ass. I can assure you I didn't do laundry and go to my job the day after. I was in the ER , then surgery and then in the hospital for a week. Then it was going home, dealing with the healing and the colostomy bag, then more surgery to get rid of it. And I won't even go into the court case."

"Well, as long as you win the title of 'Most Screwed Up By My Addiction,' then I guess it's all good."

"No. It sucks. It sucked for you and it sucked for me. And neither of us deserved what happened to us."

"And?"

"And you don't need to feel shame about it. At least not with me. I really do know what it's like . . . "

"Yeah. I know."

They reached for each other.

Their lovemaking was all tenderness, tangled limbs, comfort and safety. It took away some of the hurt, and they fell asleep feeling better.

* * *

Ann woke up the next morning to David's cries. She changed him and then breastfed him in the rocking chair in his room. She took him with her to the kitchen, and was surprised to find Wilson there, moving slowly and carefully while making coffee.

He saw Ann enter the room and buckle David into his high chair. "Listen," he said softly, almost plaintively, "I know I deserve to be yelled at for a good, long time, but if you could just hold off for a few minutes until I've had some coffee and an analgesic, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Well, at least you remember what happened last night. That's a good sign."

"Most of it, I think. And I'm really sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

"Yeah, but it couldn't hurt."

Ann smiled slightly. She wanted to hate Wilson, but she knew that House would forgive him. And, he was too, well, interesting for Ann to just toss him out.

"Why did you drink so much last night?"

"I'm not sure. Just to let you know, it's been a while since I did anything close to that. You saw that I didn't drink on Christmas. I went to my brother's on New Year's, and my sister-in-law doesn't allow booze around their kids. I haven't had anything to drink since then, except one glass of champagne at Chase's wedding."

"I thought you snuck off to the hotel bar with Sarah."

"We did, but I had a club soda."

"So, what was the trigger? You weren't drinking when I came in . . . Greg and I talked about David, then Dani and Robert's honeymoon, then their baby . . . "

Wilson looked down, and immediately regretted it because of the stab of pain in his head that accompanied that small motion.

"You're jealous, aren't you? Of Greg and our family, of Dani and Robert and the baby – "

"Of course I am. All I ever wanted was a loving spouse and kids. I'm forty-three years old. I'm running out of time and things aren't exactly looking promising."

"Greg was fifty-one when we met."

"I'm not House. And I still don't know how he did it. He's cold, cruel and selfish."

"His emotions are the deepest I've ever experienced. He's tender and loving. And his willingness to sacrifice himself for the people he cares about is breathtaking."

"I guess I just don't see that."

"There's a whole universe of things you don't see."

There was pause.

"After the ass I made of myself last night, why aren't you yelling at me?"

"You asked me not to."

"And that stopped you?"

"That, and too many memories of morning after regrets and of hangovers."

"So, that's it? I don't have to do anything to fix this?"

"I'm not sure you can. Apologizing to Greg would help. And I hope you're still in therapy."

"Twice a month."

"You might want to consider a weekly schedule for a while."

"I know."

They worked quietly in the kitchen. Wilson finished making the coffee and Ann started breakfast.

Wilson was drinking his coffee at the table, sitting next to David, who was banging a stuffed bear against the tray of his high chair. Wilson was thankful beyond measure that it wasn't a hard plastic toy or a pot lid.

House quietly entered the kitchen and stood behind Ann. He slid his arms around her as she leaned against him, the right side of her face resting against the left side of his. They rocked slowly in a rhythm known only to them.

After a few sweet moments and a soft peck on the lips they separated and House went to get coffee. He put the cup on the table and squeezed himself in-between Wilson and David's high chair. He picked up his cup and began to sip.

"I'm sorry, House."

"It's not a big deal, at least to me. However, if this is part of the twelve steps, then don't let me stop you."

"House!" Wilson winced at the loudness of his own voice.

"I have to say, Wilson, that looking at you right now greatly lessens my regret at having to give up booze. So, thanks for that."

"You're welcome. Anyway, I am sorry for what I said."

"You should be. My ass isn't _that_ hairy - "

"And it's so hot when he wiggles it," Ann interjected. "I'll bet that young nurse that gave Greg the shots left the room with a damp thong every time."

House decided to ignore Ann's comment, simply because it was too uncomfortable to acknowledge, although he did secretly enjoy the boost his ego was getting. "And, let's face it, not many people have the mad skills to cath themselves."

"I was an asshole."

"And everyone knows that's my job."

"I use to think so, but now I'm giving you some serious competition."

"I'll say. How's therapy going?"

"It's two steps forward and one step back, as you can see."

"Yeah, I know that from personal experience."

"But everything is so good for you now."

"Oh, Hon-ey!" The pitch of House's voice raised at the end as he used his most unctuous voice, "Tell Wilson what a perfect husband I am."

"I've got no complaints."

"See, everything is peachy-keen and hunky-dory. It's rainbows and kittens and blue skies with puffy white clouds. David never cries. We're never tired, we never fight and the sex is totally hot."

"Well, I agree about the sex." Ann laughed.

"And that's what really matters," House said, his voice dripping with fake sentiment as he wiped away imaginary tears with his napkin.

"Fine," Wilson said. "You can make fun of what you have now, but I'd give anything for it."

"You'd even stop building your life around caring what other people think?"

"I'm trying."

"Time for breakfast," Ann announced as she put the food, plates and flatware on the table. They ate and talked about trivial things. Wilson went home that afternoon.

* * *

A/N: Well, this chapter started out as a bit of fluff-ity fluff about Chase and Danielle's honeymoon, and look where it wound up. And no one is as surprised as I am. Hope you enjoyed the trip.


	67. Chapter 67

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs

The phone rang at two p.m.

"Hi, baby," Ann answered as she saw House's number.

"Hey, Annie," House responded. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know I'll probably be late tonight."

"Greg, I thought you were going to keep more regular hours."

"I know, but this case, it's, um, I just need to be here."

"Really? I mean, I'm not trying to be difficult, but we have an appointment with the accountant this afternoon. You're sure you're not just blowing me off here?"

"Hey, you're the one that does the blowing."

"How nice, the response of a thirteen-year-old. Don't you remember we were going to have Aleena stay late so we could go out to dinner?"

"Um, actually, I didn't, sorry."

"That's okay. I can go to the appointment by myself. And we'll go out some other time."

"You're sure you're okay about this?"

"Well, I'm disappointed, but I'll get over it. I love you."

"Here's my team, gotta go."

Ann knew House wouldn't be making a declaration of love in front of his employees. In spite of all the PDAs he'd participated in since they'd been together, he still had a reputation to protect. But, she had to admit, it was frustrating.

She was also a little peeved he wasn't going to see the accountant with her. She knew he hated financial stuff, but she didn't love it, either, and this felt a little like he was dumping it on her.

She was more upset because they wouldn't be going to dinner. She adored her son, but he was demanding, and she was really looking forward to a meal with another adult, and some alone time with House, which they hadn't had since New Year's Eve. She was even paying Aleena overtime. Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about it now.

Ann was ready to go on time, but just as she was about to leave, David spit up on her, and not just a little bit. Ann would have liked to take a shower, it was that bad, but she didn't have time. As it was, she was so late, she was practically getting dressed as she ran out the door, so she forgot her watch and her jewelry. She also neglected to grab her cell phone, and she didn't have the chance to tell Aleena that she would be back earlier because she and House weren't going out to dinner.

As Ann drove toward the accountant's office, she was able to calm down a little. She thought about it, and decided that maybe she would like a little time on her own. If the appointment didn't take too long, she could go somewhere by herself – dinner or a movie. Maybe there was some chick flick playing somewhere that House would be happy to miss. Hey, she might as well take advantage of the situation to the extent she could.

The appointment started late – quarter of five instead of four o'clock. By the time she was finished, it was ten of six. She was in the waiting room, going to get her coat off the rack when someone came in.

"Annie?" he asked, obviously stunned to see her.

"Kevin?" she asked, equally astonished.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm a client of this firm," Ann answered. A second later, she realized it was really none of his business, but she was so surprised, she answered before she thought about it. "Why are you here?"

"I'm in town for a conference and I'm meeting an old friend from college. We're going to dinner."

Kevin went up to the desk and spoke to the receptionist.

Ann had put on her coat and had just finished buttoning it when Kevin came back.

"Hey, Annie," he called as she was just about to head out the door. "Wait up!"

Ann paused.

"My buddy has been running late all day, and he can't make it for dinner."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah. Listen, I'm really hungry and I don't know any restaurants around here. Could you recommend a place?'"

"What kind of food do you want?"

"It doesn't matter. American, Italian, Chinese . . . "

"There's a pretty decent Chinese place about two blocks from here." Ann smiled slightly as she remembered that the only way she enticed House to come to their last appointment was by promising to pay for the kung pao beef and the spring rolls.

"What's so funny?" Kevin questioned.

"Nothing," Ann deflected.

"Lead the way," he gestured toward the door.

"So, the last I heard, you were in California," Kevin stated as he and Ann walked toward the restaurant.

"I moved to New Jersey about eighteen months ago," Ann informed him. "I was computerizing the filing system in a local hospital."

"What are you doing now?"

"I work from home, mostly."

"That must be lonely."

Ann smiled, inwardly this time. If Kevin only knew how busy her household was. She wasn't about to tell him. "It's not too bad."

"You're not becoming agoraphobic or anything, are you? It would be understandable after, um, the, um, you were attacked."

"I'm fine," Ann hoped her irritation over Kevin's clumsy attempt at being sympathetic wasn't too obvious. "I get out all the time, as you can see."

"Good."

They reached the restaurant and were seated promptly. It was only moderately busy.

They looked at the menu.

"What's good here?" Kevin asked.

Ann cringed a little. Kevin always said that every time he went to a restaurant he wasn't familiar with. He was still boringly predictable, it seemed. "The kung pao beef is a favorite, I understand."

"But, let me guess, you've never tasted it yourself. Still not a fan of red meat, huh?"

"I like tenderloin."

"Your tastes have gotten expensive."

"I guess." _And I can afford it now_, Ann silently noted with satisfaction.

The waiter came by and took their orders.

"I got married again," Kevin proclaimed, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Congratulations," Ann said, trying her best to sound upbeat. She honestly didn't care, but the last thing she wanted was to seem jealous in any way.

"Thanks, but . . . " Kevin hesitated. "It didn't work out."

"That's too bad," Ann responded

"We were divorced last year after six years."

Ann and Kevin had split up seven years ago. _Damn_, Ann thought, _The bed wasn't even cold when they got married. I wonder if he was cheating on me. Prick._

There was a pause as their soup arrived. The conversation stilled as they ate.

"Are you dating anyone now?" Ann asked, trying to make conversation.

"No, I'm not," Kevin admitted. "You know . . . well, this is just going to sound crazy."

"What?"

"I didn't really know why I wasn't dating anyone else until I saw you today."

"What?"

"I think I never got over you, Annie."

Ann was stunned for a second time that evening. She sat there gathering her thoughts. Luckily the silence was broken by the waiter bringing their food, not that Ann could eat it.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say here, Kevin."

"Well, I'm alone and you're alone, maybe we could – "

"I'm not trying to be harsh, but that's never going to happen."

"Why not?"

"First and foremost, because there is no way I'd ever get back together with you."

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"No, but it wasn't that good, either. Honestly, Kev, do you really want to be with someone, anyone, who doesn't love you unconditionally?"

"Unconditional love doesn't happen very often, Annie."

"I know."

"But, we had something, didn't we?"

"Not enough, Kev."

"It's better than being alone, isn't it?"

"No, it's not."

"How do you know? I mean, there you are, working in your small apartment somewhere, on your computer for hours every day, making no human contact at all."

"You're making a few assumptions here – "

"Tell me where I'm wrong."

"I got remarried, too."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Greg. He's tall and strong and has the bluest eyes on the planet. He's handsome and brilliant and a musician."

"And he doesn't have a pot to piss in, I'll bet – "

"He's a world famous doctor, and he has money. Quite a bit, in fact."

"You're making this up!"

"Why do you think I was at the accountant today?"

"It's March and it's tax time?"

"Since when has my financial situation required anything more than a few minutes with TurboTax? And, by the way, how can you afford to be here at a conference now? When we were married, you were up to your eyeballs in work from January through April fifteenth."

"My wife threatened to leave me because I wasn't around at all for four months of the year. I hired a couple of young guys, and they are handling most of the clients now."

"And she left you anyway?"

"Yeah. Let's get back to you, okay? If you're so happily married, where is your wedding ring?"

"I was late for my appointment this afternoon and I left it at home."

"How convenient."

"Actually, it was anything but."

"What does that mean?"

"I was late because my three-month old son spit up all over me and I had to change before I left."

"Son? You have a son? Please, Annie, don't lie to me."

Ann was all set to pull out her cell and show him pictures to prove it, when she realized she'd left her phone at home. "Kev, believe me or don't believe me, I don't really care. All you need to know is that we're never getting back together."

"Why not?"

"Because it didn't work."

"It worked just fine."

"I didn't love you!"

"How do you know that?"

"I know because being with Greg taught me what love is. He's the center of my universe. He and David are the reason I get up in the morning. I can't imagine my life without them!"

Kevin was silent, looking stunned.

"Kev, I'm sorry, I – "

"Forget it."

"Listen, I think I should go. I'd say it was good to see you, but . . . Anyway, good luck, okay?"

Kevin gave Ann a nod of acknowledgement as she got up and grabbed her coat. She hurried to the entrance, slipped the coat on, and buttoned it up. She almost ran the two blocks to the street where her car was parked.

She got in and started the car. She let it warm up for a few minutes. As she did, she realized she was just too upset to go back home. She needed some time to calm down.

She drove to a large chain bookstore. She browsed until she found a history book she thought she could use to distract herself. She bought a cup of decaf coffee and settled into one of the big chairs.

* * *

House's case had gone better than expected when Chase, re-looking at some of the test results, and putting together a piece of casual conversation with the patient's mother, came up with what turned out to be the correct diagnosis. House continued to be proud of Chase's growing diagnostic prowess, not that he would have said anything like that, certainly not in front of his other employees.

So, House delegated the treatment of the patient to his team, excepting Chase, who came up with the diagnosis, and he headed home, arriving around seven. He was surprised to find Aleena there with the baby, thinking Ann would be there and would have sent Aleena home. Aleena was surprised to see House return by himself, expecting that House and Ann would be coming home together after dinner, since Ann had not told her about the change of plans.

House tried to call Ann's cell, only to find it was ringing on the charger in the kitchen. He called the accounting firm, and it went to a recording stating the office was closed and listing regular office hours. House didn't want to admit he was a little concerned, but it must have been obvious because Aleena offered to stay with the baby so that he could go out and look for Ann. House sent her home with a reassurance he didn't really feel and decided to busy himself with dinner.

It took House a good two hours to get himself dinner and to get David fed, bathed and down for the night. Ann still wasn't home. House couldn't contact her and he had no idea where she was. Now that he had no activity to occupy even a portion of his mind, he officially moved from concerned up to genuinely worried.

* * *

Ann sipped her coffee and read the book. It was about Abbess Hildegard of Bingen and was quite engrossing. After what she thought was a few minutes, she finished her coffee and got up to go to the bathroom. Since she didn't have her watch or her cell phone, she asked another woman in the restroom what time it was. Ten-fifteen. Oops.

She used the bathroom as quickly as she could, bought the book and hurried to her car. Luckily, it was parked close to the entrance so it wasn't a long walk. The trouble was, it was about a forty-minute drive home from the bookstore.

Since it was late on a Wednesday night, there wasn't much traffic, so Ann made better time than she anticipated. She hoped House was still at the hospital, and that she would find only a slightly put out Aleena. If that were the case, Ann could pay her a little something (okay, a lot something) extra and apologize profusely and that would be it.

Unfortunately, when she pulled into the garage at about eleven, House's car was there. She still entertained some small hope of avoiding a problem, thinking that House might be in bed, asleep. She knew she wasn't going to luck out when she entered the hallway from the garage and saw the light from the TV in the living room. She still didn't want to face him and briefly considered going quietly to their bedroom, but she thought that was just too cowardly. She braced herself and went in.

House was sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and sleep pants and aimlessly flipping through the channels. He said nothing to her and didn't even acknowledge her presence. Ann knew she was in serious trouble at that moment.

"Hi," she ventured tentatively.

House looked down at his watch, trying to appear as though he were doing it casually. Since he'd being doing that every five minutes for the last two hours, it wasn't exactly convincing. "Eleven p.m., huh? Why even bother to come home?"

Although House's voice was steady and even, there was no mistaking the ice-cold anger it contained. Ann had known House wouldn't be happy. She was just now realizing just how unhappy he was.

At the same time, Ann started to get a little upset herself. She'd had nothing to eat since lunch but a small bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. She wasn't sure if it was low blood sugar, or just the truly shitty evening she'd had, but she could feel her anger rising in response.

"Oh, for God's sake, stop being so melodramatic," Ann replied. Both she and House were surprised at the resentment in her voice. "I was gone for a few hours, not a few months!"

"You left here at three-thirty. You got home at eleven. I couldn't reach you all that time. You left your cell phone here."

Ann should have heard the worry in his voice, but, instead, her mind only focused on how accusatory he sounded. "David spit up all over me just before I left. I had to change all my clothes quickly or I'd be late. I left a bunch of stuff behind, including my cell."

"Well, wasn't that convenient."

"Actually, it was a pain in the ass. If you hadn't quote-unquote had a patient, you could have gone to the accountant's office and started the appointment, and I could have been a little late, but I couldn't rely on that, could I?"

"Are you saying you couldn't rely on _me_?"

"If the shoe fits . . . "

"I'm a doctor; I had a very sick patient."

"Who is apparently all better now."

"What is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I was lying about having a case?"

"No. However, it is a startling coincidence that you only seem to have desperately sick patients when we have to go to appointments you can't stand, like the accountant and the financial planner."

"I'm not even going to dignify that accusation with a response. Besides, I wasn't the one who didn't come home tonight. You were. Where the hell were you?"

"The appointment started forty-five minutes late and it took longer than I thought it would."

"How long?"

"We weren't finished until almost six."

"So, it took you five hours to get back here? What did you do, drive home via Maryland?"

Ann still wasn't hearing the almost frantic worry in House's voice. She was only getting the sarcasm. It made her want to lash out. "Well, if you must know, I met someone at the accountant's office and I went to dinner with him."

"What the hell? Who?"

"Kevin." Ann should not have felt so triumphant when she saw House's face fall, but she was so irritated she couldn't help it.

House was silent for a moment. Ann could see him re-grouping for another attack. She should have put a stop to the whole thing right there, but her emotions weren't exactly under her control at that moment, either.

"So, you had dinner, and then went to a local motel to bang each other and remember the good old days."

"If we had, we certainly would have gone to a nice hotel, not some cheap place."

"But, they're the places with the hourly rates."

"Which a man who could only get it from hookers for years would know."

"Hey, you're giving it to me for free, so what does that say about you?"

"I'm using your money when I buy anything, including my custom-designed house. Who's being taken for a ride there?"

"Wilson said you were a gold-digger. It seems he was right."

"You're going to believe him? After the way he treated you the last time he was here? After the way he's always treated you? Why would you ever do that?'"

"He's my friend."

"And, apparently, I'm not."

"If the shoe fits . . . "

That blow, along with all the others that had landed, was enough to finally make Ann quiet. "Okay," she said softly. "I'm going to sleep in the guest room."

Ann headed for the back room. House sat there, astonished. What had he done? He started out worried to death about her because he loved her so much, and now she was so angry she was sleeping in another room? House didn't really think anything had happened between Ann and her ex. Then why had he accused her? It was all the time she was gone. Why hadn't she just told him what she was doing?

House turned off the TV and got up. His leg was throbbing; with all his worrying he'd forgotten to take his pain meds. He felt both the physical and emotional pain all the way to his bones. He was going toward the bedroom when he saw the hall light was still on. He decided to turn it off so it wouldn't wake up David.

Damn. Was Ann going to leave him? Was she going to take David? At that moment, in House's mind, the only thing he was good at was screwing up relationships and making the people who cared about him want to get the hell away.

As he headed toward the light switch, he saw a Barnes and Noble bag on the hall table. He picked it up without thinking and saw a book in it. No surprise there. What was interesting was the receipt. It was dated today at ten twenty-eight p.m. There was a napkin being used as a bookmark; it was stuck about two-thirds of the way through the three-hundred page book. House knew Ann was a fast reader, but, still, it would have taken her a good two to three hours to read that much.

So, she had left the accountant's office, gone somewhere for dinner with the ex, and then they went to a bookstore to buy books and read together in a motel somewhere? No, then the time on the receipt would have been earlier, not to mention the fact that intellectual enlightenment was usually the last thing people who were hooking up had on their minds. No, that couldn't be it. What must have happened was that she went to dinner with him, and then went to the bookstore. Judging by the fact that she was reading for so long, she must have gone by herself. Which made it likely they had had some kind of angry words, or at least didn't leave on good terms.

House started to feel like a total idiot. What had come over him? Worry, jealously, he wasn't sure. And now, after everything he'd said, she probably wanted to leave him. He wouldn't blame her. He headed toward the bedroom, stripped down to his boxers and went to bed. He knew he wouldn't sleep, especially without her.

Ann got ready for bed in the guest room. She had no nightclothes in there, so she just took off her pants and her bra, and went to bed in her top and panties. What did it matter? She'd had a crappy evening with her ex, had tried to get her emotions in check so as not to take it out on Greg, and the whole thing had just blown up, anyway.

As Ann lay down, she felt justified in how she acted, at least at first. Greg was being a bastard for no apparent reason. But, that didn't make sense. He always had a reason for what he did. Ann tried to put herself in House's shoes. What if the roles had been reversed, and she hadn't been able to contact him for almost seven hours. _Oh my God_, she thought, _he must have been worried sick about me_.

At first, that made Ann angrier. Why couldn't he just tell her that and avoid all the hostility? Ann thought about that and realized that he probably just didn't know how. His father was never concerned about him, in fact, just the opposite. And with Greg's mother, it was probably even worse. She probably expressed concern, but when it really mattered, and he needed her protection, she was either nowhere to be found, or, went along with whatever punishment John House meted out.

Being mad was the best he could do. It was the only way he knew to show her how worried he was, and she threw it back in his face. And she'd said some terrible things, striking at all his weaknesses, and then she left him sitting there, alone. She was such an idiot. How could she take back her stupidity? She didn't know.

Both House and Ann waited for sleep in their respective bedrooms, and, of course, it never came.

House tossed and turned. He couldn't get out of his mind what a jerk he'd been. Should he go to her and tell her he was sorry? God, that would be so lame. And he was totally useless at apologies. Finally, he got an idea. He got up, grabbed his cane and limped to the guest room.

Ann was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She wanted to tell House she was sorry, but she knew he would see that as just words. Well, it didn't matter. She had to do something.

She was just sitting up to get out of bed when House came into the room and turned on the light. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust, and they both paused for a second.

"Greg," Ann began, "Listen – "

"I want a massage," House announced.

"What?"

"You heard me. I want a massage. My leg hurts and so does the rest of me."

Ann hesitated. She really wanted to talk to House and tell him she was sorry. "Greg, I'm not sure, I –"

House heard the doubt. He assumed it was because she was so angry at him that she didn't want to touch him. Not that he blamed her. But, he needed to get her back, so he pushed ahead.

"You gave me that certificate a year ago last Christmas. It said 'anytime.' I want one now."

Ann found House's insistence puzzling. With all they had to deal with, why did he want this so much at this moment? Well, he was right that she'd said she would do it any time he asked.

"Okay," She agreed.

"Where?" House questioned.

"The bed is bigger in there," Ann replied, pointing toward the master bedroom, "Let's go there."

They walked across the living room, not touching each other, went down the short hall and entered the bedroom.

"You need to take off your boxers so I can get at your leg," Ann directed him.

"Why don't you take off your top and panties?" House suggested, trying to sound nonchalant. He didn't quite pull it off.

At that moment, it clicked for Ann. House was trying to get them to come back together. They often used touch to communicate. It seemed to work when nothing else did. Ann still wanted to talk to him, but maybe this would be a good way to get things started.

"I'll begin with your back," Ann said, gesturing for him to lie face down on the bed. House complied.

"So beautiful," Ann murmured softly enough that if it hadn't been the dead of night, House would not have heard it. He then felt her hands.

It took a grand total of thirty seconds for him to be melting into her touch. "Annie," he said so quietly that she barely heard him. The massage continued. Every time her hands touched him, they both felt intense emotion surging between them.

Ann's hands traveled slowly down his back, relaxing each muscle. She kneaded his butt and moved on to the back of his legs. She asked him to flip over when she got to his feet.

It wasn't surprising that House was getting a partial erection at this point. But, what was surprising was the way Ann looked. House saw red spots on her cheeks, and then he felt the drops from her tears. He instinctively reached up with his hand to comfort her.

"Don't," Ann requested softly. "I need to feel this."

House watched intently as Ann continued rubbing his feet and then moved up his legs. Her tears were flowingly freely now, and House wondered how she could see what she was doing. The thought occurred to him that maybe she didn't need to see; she knew his body so well that she could rely solely on touch to find her way. That caused some strong feelings to rise in House's chest. He was afraid if he didn't look away, he'd be crying, too. And he tried. But, he found he couldn't keep his eyes off her face.

He focused on breathing deeply and slowly. That seemed to help and he kept it together.

Ann had traveled up his body, and was working on his left arm. When she finished with his hand, she pulled it to her face and rubbed her cheek, first against the back, and then the palm. House felt her tears all over his hands, and the emotion surged again. He focused even more on his breathing and managed to keep from losing it, although it was becoming increasingly difficult.

She took extra time on his sore right arm. When she finished with his right hand, House expected she would do the same thing, that is, rub her face against it. So, he was surprised when, in addition to doing that, she paused and kissed his palm. It took House a moment to realize that she was kissing him in specific places, namely, on the calluses that he had from using the cane. And the expression on her face was almost, well, reverential.

House felt another jolt of emotion – the strongest he had felt so far. Even with the deep breathing, his eyes were becoming dangerously full. Luckily, she stopped working on his hands and moved in back of him to work on his shoulders and his neck.

Not looking at her made it easier to keep his emotions in check. And the scalp massage brought relaxation and pleasure rather than emotion.

She caught him off guard at the end. One part of House's body that he hated, almost as much as his scar, was his bald spot. John had mocked him about it. It made House look old, and, quite frankly, between his needing a cane, and the lines in his face from the years of pain, he really didn't need any more help in that department.

He also just didn't like the idea of being bald. Sure, a black guy like Foreman could make it look cool (not Foreman himself, because he was a geek, but a black guy _like_ him could). However, on a white guy, heading into late middle-age, not so much. The only consolation was that House was tall enough that most people couldn't really see the spot, or, at least, the extent of it.

Ann had finished the massage, and she was covering his ugly, pasty-white scalp with kisses. Then one of her hands reached down underneath him and began caressing his lower back, touching his love handles. At the same time, her other hand reached down further and was smoothing over his scar.

It didn't take long for House to realize what Ann was telling him. That she loved even the parts he hated because they made him feel weak or old or ugly. That she loved all of him, completely and without reservation.

That finally did it. The tears welled up, and before House had the chance to breathe or do anything else to control them, they spilled out. Ann moved so that she was lying next to him on the bed. House saw that her tears had returned as well.

They drew together, drawing comfort from the closeness. Once they were finished crying, they made love with a fierceness and intensity they had never felt before.

House and Ann both thought they would sleep afterwards, since the evening had utterly drained them, but, they didn't. Ann decided it was finally time for her to say what she felt she needed to.

"I hope you're not angry with me anymore," Ann began, "But I still want tell you something."

House nodded for her to continue.

"I went to dinner with Kevin tonight, as you know, at that Chinese place we always go to when we visit the accountant. Anyway, he told me he had been remarried and divorced. He actually wanted to know if he and I could get together again. I told him about you and David and he didn't believe me. Of course, I didn't have my cell, and I couldn't show him any pictures. He kept pushing me and finally I told him I didn't love him and I never had. He asked me how I knew that, and I said that I knew what love was because of you. I told him you were the center of my universe, and that you and David were the reason I got up in the morning, and that I couldn't imagine my life without you. I meant every word, and I think you know that, especially after what just happened between us. Do you think we can just forget all the stupid things we said to each other?"

"I don't want to forget."

"What? Why not?"

"I want to remember every dumb thing I said that hurt you, so I won't ever say it again. I was so worried something had happened to you. And instead of telling you that, I accused you of, well, it was just idiotic."

"I should have sensed that you were worried. Instead I took my anger at Kevin out on you. I'm the idiot."

"Let's just say there's enough idiocy to go around."

"And then some."

They pulled together even closer than before. It felt like they were a single body. They were clinging to each other - hanging on for dear life.

After a while they pulled apart slightly and looked into each other's eyes.

"How many times have we done something stupid like this?" Ann said sadly. "Why do we keep doing that?"

"I don't know," House responded. "I suppose a lot of it is my inability to tell you what I really feel."

"But that's not unusual. I know you have difficulty expressing your emotions because you were punished for it. And you never learned how to show someone you were concerned about them because no one ever truly cared about you."

It was a harsh thing to say, but it was the truth. Ann knew House wouldn't want any sympathy, and she didn't give it to him. But, she loved him and it hurt her terribly to acknowledge how he had been treated.

Ann continued. "Besides, I can usually figure out what you mean."

"You were rushed, resentful of having to do something without me, and disappointed you weren't going to get to go out to dinner. Then you meet your ex, who spends most of the time you're together being a clueless jerk, you go to decompress so you don't bring it home with you, and I give you a hard time about it. No wonder you were cranky."

"Maybe. But, you must admit that my getting angry at you for your reaction to the time I spent calming down was, to say the least, ironic. And I should have known the way you were acting was your way of expressing concern."

"Hey, even your nifty House Decoder Ring doesn't work all the time."

"Still, I never should have said those things to you."

"But, some of it was true. I have been with hookers."

"Oh, baby," Ann's hand found its way to House's cheek and she cradled his face in her palm.

"See, that's the wrong response, or, at least, the unexpected one."

"What?"

"You should be squicked out or jealous, not sympathetic."

"Says who?"

"I don't know. Every other woman I've met."

"I guess I just admire you."

"For hiring hookers?"

"For being willing to save significant parts of yourself."

"By paying for sex?"

"By doing whatever it took to get some connection to another human being. That was brave. I was too much of a coward to do that."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I was too scared to do what you did. Not the sex. The connection. I let large chunks of myself simply fall away rather than deal with it."

"I still don't understand."

"I felt nothing for years. I lived in a little bubble where nothing could touch me. I gave up my mother and my brother rather than working through the hurt that we had – have - between us."

"I'm not exactly close to my mom, either."

"When was the last time you told her you love her?"

"I don't know. I guess when she called on Valentine's Day."

"So, does that mean every time you talk to her, you tell her that?"

"Um, yeah, pretty much."

"And you mean it, right?"

"Yes. You know I don't say a lot of emotional stuff I don't mean."

"Don't you see how courageous that is?"

"Not really."

"I haven't told my mom I love her in twenty-five years. You're brave enough to do that. You are so brave you risked hurt just to have a connection with someone else. You saved yourself doing that. So much of me is dead or gone."

"That's bullshit! I don't believe any of it. There's so much of you that, that . . . _feels_."

"And there used to be so much more."

House was completely taken aback by what Ann said. Oh, sure, she'd told him that she was as broken as he was, but he never really believed it. He knew she'd had severe trauma from the rape, but he figured that was equivalent to the betrayal and damage he'd suffered from his infarction. Not that you could necessarily compare traumas, but he figured at least the permanence of the damage – its life changing effects – were pretty similar.

But, he'd always thought her childhood was better than his; she'd even said her childhood was "normal." And, he had always taken comfort in knowing that at least she didn't have that pain on top of everything else. But apparently, she'd been unable to admit how difficult things had been, and he'd been wrong believing it wasn't that bad. He finally saw it now.

He also saw how remarkable she was. Although she was praising him for reaching out, however tentatively, she was the one who had created a whole new family for herself, with parents, a brother and a sister, all of whom truly loved her. He was about to protest what she said when he realized that wouldn't convince her.

"Maybe there was more and it's gone," House conceded. "But, that's not the whole story. There are people who have strokes and have permanent brain damage in specific areas. They should lose the ability associated with that part of the brain, like speech, for example. But, many times, they don't. There isn't good science yet on why not. But, the current theory is that there are redundant abilities in the brain and that the brain is flexible enough, to, in effect, re-wire itself. Maybe you have lost significant parts of yourself. But, you've managed to get around it."

"How?"

"Aren't you the woman who told me that her family wasn't her biological mother and brother, but her chosen family?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"You know, for an intelligent woman you can be a moron sometimes. Don't you get it? You re-wired your entire life!"

"I guess . . . "

"Not to mention all the 'rewiring' it must have taken to learn to love me."

"Loving you is easy."

"Oh, come on!"

"Living with you and dealing with all your, um, quirks, isn't always easy, but loving you is."

There was a pause as each absorbed what the other said.

"So, we're okay now?" House asked. Ann heard the hesitation in his voice.

"Yes," Ann answered. She wanted to say something to reassure him, but Ann knew by now that fluffy, happy words would seem empty to him. She decided to go for the direct approach. "We are. But I don't think we can guarantee this won't happen again. We're gonna fight, Greg."

"I know. I just, I don't, shit, I want to, to know, damn. Just don't leave me, okay?"

"Is that what you thought? That I was going to leave you?"

"Maybe . . . "

"Why would you think I'd do that?"

"You did before."

"I've never left you or even said I would."

"Yes you did. You said you had to get away from me. You were packing a suitcase."

"That's _so_ not fair. It was after my attacker called me. I was pregnant and I thought I was protecting you and the baby. And it took you all of ten seconds to figure out I was hormonal and totally not thinking straight because I was so scared."

"But, still . . . "

"And, if memory serves, you were packing a suitcase once."

"I spent a lifetime avoiding having kids. I even considered giving this kid up. I almost lost you. I get my wife back and I fall in love with my son. Then, I get them home and I can't get near them. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? Do you think I was in any way rational when I said I was leaving?"

"Probably not."

"Okay."

"So, your point is that when you threaten to leave when you're irrational it doesn't count, but when I threaten to leave when I'm irrational, it does."

"No, I, um, . . . shit, I guess you're right. But I still thought you were going to go."

"Why?"

"Because I'd been a complete ass. And you went to sleep in the guest room."

"But, I stayed here."

"I thought you didn't leave tonight because you were too tired, and that you were going to go in the morning."

"Why didn't you think I just needed a little space and maybe I thought it was better if we were not in the same room for a while so we'd stop hurting each other?"

"Because that's not how things work."

"What do you mean? How do they work?"

"I say or do something stupid and hurtful, and then the person I care about leaves . . . I mean, it's always happened before . . . "

Ann felt a sharp stab in her chest. She knew House been abandoned and betrayed many times over the course of his life, but she never knew just how deep the wounds were until now. She felt her eyes filling, but she knew she couldn't let him see her cry, or he would think they were pity tears. She slid her arms around him and buried her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder.

Despite her efforts to hide it, House knew she was crying. His first inclination was to push her away and tell her he didn't need her pity.

"My sweet, beautiful man," she croaked as she held him tightly. "I wasn't going to leave you. I'm never going to leave you."

House felt something come apart inside him. There was pain, but there was also love there. And joy. An almost bottomless joy that threatened to overwhelm him in its intensity.

House knew he should say something, but he didn't know what. So, he went for something safe and unemotional. "Now that we have that settled, can we get some sleep?"

Ann chuckled through her dissipating tears. "It has been a hell of a night, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. By the way, I'm staying, too."

"I never thought otherwise."

House cupped Ann's cheek in his hand. He leaned towards her and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, eyelids and chin, and finished with a soft caress of a kiss against her lips. He rolled to lay flat on his back and pulled her to him so that her head was resting on his chest. Ann put her arm around his waist.

Sleep finally claimed them and they woke all too early to their son's cries. But they didn't mind.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my cousin's wife, for no other reason than I love her. Miss you, Liz.


	68. Chapter 68

Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs

House was probably a beach person - before the infarction, that is. In most of the places he'd lived, there weren't many hills and he'd never considered them one way or the other.

But, apparently, Ann had.

"Why did we pick this particular piece of land?" House asked as his car cranked its way up the driveway. They had come through the iron electronic gate that surrounded the property and were heading up a steep hill.

Even as his car labored, House was positive his bike had enough juice to get up the hill, although he would be pushing it. And he didn't want to think about this driveway in the winter, until he remembered it was heated.

"I liked the view," Ann answered his question simply.

"You're sure this is okay for security?" House questioned. He noticed Ann flinch a little.

"For once, I honestly don't think I took that into consideration."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, if I had, I wouldn't have picked this spot. According to the security people I've consulted, we are much more vulnerable up on a hill than we would be on flat ground."

"I'm not so sure about that. If we were trying to protect ourselves from an air attack, probably, but otherwise, aren't we safer on a hilltop? I seem to remember that in every battle history John forced fed me, when the skirmish occurred before the advent of air power, the people winning were on higher ground."

"Except World War I."

"Yeah, but nobody won that."

"True. Anyway, I don't care any more."

"_Please_."

"No, I don't."

"Come on. This is the woman who plans so much, anyone lifting our basement freezer would get a hernia because of the thousand pounds of food in there."

"It's more like a hundred pounds."

"Well, I'm sure the movers were reassured that they only needed a forklift instead of an overhead crane."

There was a pause.

"I guess I was just willing to forego some safety for a reminder of home."

"The mountains in California are much bigger than this."

"California was never my home. I was thinking of New York."

"What?'

"New York. Catskills covering a lot of the lower half of the state and Adirondacks covering most of the upper part."

"Manhattan doesn't have any mountains."

"As amazing as Manhattan is in its own right, it really is an aberration."

"How so?"

"Most of the state isn't Woody Allen able to sleep because of the traffic – it's Diane Keaton able to sleep because of the crickets."

"If you say so . . . "

"Why don't we just see the house, okay?"

They were at the top of the driveway, which lead to the side of the house, or, more specifically, the four-car garage.

"Tell me again why we decided we needed this much garage space?" House questioned grumpily.

"Since we've finished off part of the basement, we don't have a lot of storage space."

"We still have plenty down there, and we have an actual storage room off the garage."

"We made that room into a workshop."

"Why? Didn't you call me the diagnostician who doesn't know one end of a hammer from the other?"

"Yes. "

"So why put in a workshop if we needed the storage? This isn't making any sense. What's really going on here?"

"You're right that is isn't about storage space. I thought it would be nice to fit all of our cars."

"I'm still not following you. We have two cars and a motorcycle. Are you going to be starting up a side business as a limo driver or something?"

"Funny. No, I'm just planning for the future."

"Explain."

"Well, I think that at some point, maybe when you're in your seventies, you'll consider giving up the motorcycle."

"I'm not going to agree to that now, but I'll admit there will come a time when, just maybe, that's true. But that means we'll need even less garage space."

"Not really. At about that point, both the kids will have licenses."

"Kids? Last time I checked, we just had the one. Are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"

"No, but we have talked about it and we haven't ruled it out."

"I guess. But I still don't see how an infant needs garage space."

"Infants grow up and become teenagers, alas. And they'll probably both have cars."

"As long as they pay for it themselves, including maintenance, registration, title and insurance."

"Thank you, John House."

"One of the few things I agree with him about. If my parents had ever bought me a car, aside from dying of shock, I'd have beaten the piss out of it because I didn't have any skin in the game."

"Wow, your metaphors are making my head spin."

"But you know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, and I happen to agree with it, mostly."

"Mostly? Did Daddy buy his little girl a car for her sweet-sixteen birthday?"

"No, but he did slip me some cash toward it. How he got that past my mom, I'll never know. In spite of the fact that my mom bought my brother a car."

House found that admission interesting, but he didn't want to get sidetracked from their current discussion. "Anyway, you have this image of our two cars and theirs sitting happily in the garage together."

"Well, when you put it that way, it does sound unbelievably sappy."

"I just don't know how realistic that is. I mean, David will most likely be either off to college or almost there if/when Kid Number Two is getting his/her car."

"I guess."

"Wait a minute – you don't think they're going away to college? You think they're going to be living at home, don't you?"

"A girl can dream."

"Why would either of them want that? Why wouldn't they want to get away as soon as they could?"

"Maybe because they actually like their parents?"

"You're past dreaming and into delusional."

"I don't think so."

"I do. Show me the rest of this monstrosity."

They looked at the aforementioned workshop. The room was empty except for metal cabinets along two of the walls, and a bench with cabinets and drawers of varying depths underneath. It would make a good work room for someone, House thought. Well, if it didn't get trashed while they were living there, it would probably help with the re-sale value, anyway.

They entered through the mudroom and House looked at the half-bath adjacent to it. It was very basic with white cabinets and the only non-granite bathroom countertop in the house. That was a good idea since the people using it would be coming in from outside and possibly be quite dirty. He suddenly had a mental image of David at seven or eight, covered in mud, trying to get it off his face and arms and making a total mess of the room. He smiled inwardly.

The mud room itself had a wooden bench running along one side, with a place to sit and a spot underneath for shoes and boots. On the other side was another bench, this one a little higher, which lifted up to allow for people to put items in the cabinet underneath. At long last, House hoped he could find a way to keep from losing one of every pair of gloves he had ever owned. There were wooden pegs at two heights attached to the bead board paneling above this cabinet. The lower one was for shorter jackets and was accessible to children, and the higher one was for longer coats and was accessible to adults. It was a small detail, but it made House realize how much thought Ann and the designer had put into most aspects of the place.

They turned left and entered a room that was empty except for counters of various heights and plastic storage bins that rolled out under them, with spaces in between. This room opened on to smaller room in back that was similarly finished.

"Is this where we're doing the vivisections?" House asked, as his face displayed a diabolical grin.

"I thought arts and crafts, school projects, and possibly a darkroom, but you never know what hobbies will interest children," Ann deadpanned.

They came out of the room and took a left. They went down a short corridor, past a closet with double doors. House paused and opened it, to find empty wooden shelves. "I thought you said there wasn't enough storage."

"Well, you know how much I food I tend to store."

"I think I once said it was enough to impress a survivalist."

"Yeah. I thought I could put overflow canned-goods and non-refrigerated food here so I wouldn't have to schlep it up from the basement."

"Overflow?"

"From the pantry in the kitchen."

"Which is already chock-full, no doubt."

Ann smiled sheepishly as they entered the utility room. There were more shelves and cabinets, a big sink and the washer and dryer. Next to the door on the opposite corner of the room was a large laundry cart on wheels.

House looked at it quizzically.

"I can wheel it to our side of the house and put all the dirty laundry you leave on the floor of the master bedroom, bathroom, and closet in it and wheel it back here," Ann answered without his asking.

"Why not just leave it there?"

"Not really a place for it, plus I kind of hope that the kids will chuck their dirty clothes in here, since it's right next to their bedrooms."

"More wishful thinking, eh?"

"Probably worse than hoping they stay at home when they go to college, yes."

"More unrealistic, that's for sure."

The headed across the hall to the children's rooms next. David's room was a little bigger, but it had a slightly smaller bathroom and a smaller walk-in closet.

"He's never going to put his shoes on the appropriate shelves and hang his shirts on the lower racks and his pants on the upper ones, unless he's gay."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Better keep him away from Wilson, just in case there's any nurture involved."

They went back out into the hallway to the other room. This room had a window in the front of the house.

"You're sure this should be Kid Number Two's room?" House asked.

"I just thought the smaller room should be for the younger child, that's all," Ann responded. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, suppose Kid Number Two is a girl?"

"Well, she'll have the bigger closet and bathroom, so that works, but I'm guessing you meant something else."

"I just don't want Little Johnny Pervert across the street watching her while she undresses."

Ann chuckled.

"What?" House asked, perplexed

"You have to know that across the cul-de-sac is what, a football field? Not to mention that we are higher up than they are by twenty feet."

"Yeah, so?"

"So I don't think even if 'she' stripped on the front porch the boy across the way could see her, let alone if she decided to undress in her bedroom, behind closed blinds."

"What are you saying?"

"Just that it's adorable that you are already so possessive of a teenage daughter who is little more than a gleam in our eyes."

"Are you mocking a concerned parent?"

"I'm mocking a jealous father."

"Someone who's decided to send away any girl who shows any interest in David until he's at least thirty-two has no right to say anything."

"Yeah, well, you're going to keep your potential daughter under lock-and-key until she's at least forty."

"I know what men are like."

"Which is?"

"Totally trying to score, without any consideration for the consequences of their actions."

"Um, wasn't it you – a man - who decided we should have a relationship after our first date?"

"I think it might have been our second date, but, whatever, I did bring up the subject."

"Was that because you were trying to score with no consequences?"

"Well, obviously not."

"So how can you say that men are like that?"

"Well, I didn't get it until I was in my fifties."

"I'm thinking Stacy would disagree with that."

"And that went _so_ well. Remind me, what is the point of this discussion?"

"Just that if we give her an example of a loving couple, she'll understand what to look for and make good choices, at least most of the time."

"Now who's planned out the entire life of a child who hasn't even been conceived?"

"She will know what to do, though."

House rolled his eyes, for no other reason than his stated worldview didn't allow for imagining people who didn't exist yet (even though he'd done it himself). But, if he was at all truthful, and completely to his own surprise, he wanted this second child very much.

There was a powder room and a linen closet outside the bedroom.

They went down the hall, turned left and looked at the foyer. There were pillars separating it from the dining room, so it felt like a large, open space, even though it was only one story.

They glanced inside the library on their left. Their books were placed on the copious shelving. There remained room for expansion here, and that didn't count the bookshelves in all the bedrooms or in the finished rooms in the basement or the office. Ann thought that she might finally live in a house that had enough space for all the books she could ever want.

What had started out as a living room across the hall had been transformed, with Ann's knowledge and taste, into what the Victorians used to call a conservatory. There was a glass-domed roof with a lot of large, potted plants, including an orange tree. Ann's harpsichord and House's piano were there, along with overstuffed chairs and the rest of their instruments hung along the walls.

Across from the conservatory were the kitchen, dinette and the family room. This was the center of the home, and where they would probably spend most of their time together. The kitchen opened on to the conservatory and the dinette area, and that room went into the family room.

They had considered making part of the basement into a home theater, but, because of House's mobility issues, they had decided to use the family room instead. A full screen TV covered most of the wall that was against the garage. There was a lot of natural light in the room, but it was not direct during the day since the house faced east, and, of course, it wasn't an issue in the evening. Ann's large couch had been donated, and they had purchased an even bigger sectional sofa for this room, along with some swivel chairs.

They traveled along the back of the house, through what originally had been designed as an open porch, past a heated, indoor swimming pool that went along the rear of the house from the conservatory past a guest room to the back of the master bedroom. Of course the pool had an alarm in case any toddler got anywhere near it without adult supervision.

"That guest room was supposed to be a den," House groused as they walked past.

"Am I denying you a man-cave, dear?"

"Yes, and you'll owe me the rest of your life."

"What, exactly, are you expecting as payment?"

"Three guesses. But, office first," House grunted. Ann pointed at a door. She opened it and they headed down a corridor that extended off the back corner of the house.

She opened another door and came into a small kitchen with a table and four chairs. They walked through the door on the other side, and found a bathroom, with a toilet, sink and a large shower stall.

"Remind me why we need a full bathroom in here?" House questioned.

"Technically, it's a three-quarter bath because there's no tub," Ann answered.

"Whatever. Why do we need it?"

"I know how obsessed you get about cases. I can see you staying in this office for days. I thought you might like to be able to freshen up a bit."

"Fine," House grunted. Again, he was moved by her awareness and acceptance of the way he worked, and her thoughtfulness in designing a workspace that would fit his peculiar habits. Not that he would tell her that.

They walked into his office. It had a large wooden desk with a credenza in back. The walls were lined with shelves which contained his medical books and journals, along with his models of various parts of human anatomy, and other scientific toys. Even his large red tennis ball sat on the edge of his desk

"There's not much left in my office at Princeton Plainsboro," he announced.

"That's okay, isn't it?" Ann questioned tentatively.

"Yeah. I don't see myself spending a lot of time there anymore, except virtually."

There was a pause.

"Hey," House said gruffly, "You put in a shower for me to 'freshen up,' which is way too gay for me, by the way. I don't suppose I have any place to sleep here, do I?"

"Both of these couches are fold out king-size beds," Ann replied, gesturing to the two large leather couches that took up a sizeable portion of the room.

"Woot!"

"What?"

"We have a place to escape from the kids. Yes!"

"Please. This from a man who, when I remind him to put his infant son to bed, takes a half hour reading to him, talking to him, cuddling him and kissing him goodnight."

"What are you saying?"

"You want to get away from your kid or future kid as much as a menopausal woman loves heat and humidity."

"Are you having a hot flash?"

"I'm a long way away from that, old man. Sorry, I meant late middle-aged man."

"Thanks."

They walked through another doorway to a room with a conference table, and several large screens on the walls.

"I take it the electronics for this media extravaganza are in these cabinets?" House pointed to cupboards underneath the screens.

"Some have electronics, but most are empty, so you can use them for storage. There are some built-in file cabinets, too."

There was a door on the opposite side of the room.

"Does that go outside?" House questioned.

"Not exactly," Ann replied.

House limped across the room and opened the door to find a sort of foyer. Once again, it had bead board with hooks for coats, benches for sitting down to change boots and cabinets for storing outwear.

"Why do we need this?"

"So your employees have a place to put their coats and things."

"Don't want them to get too comfortable."

"And you don't want them to be cluttering your conference room with all their stuff, either."

"Fine." House walked over to look out one of the windows. He saw a small parking lot that connected around the house to the main driveway.

"Is this heated, too?" he asked with disdain.

"Yes," Ann responded.

"We shouldn't have done that. They're going to get spoiled. Not to mention the electric bill will be outta sight."

"Well, if we're willing to pay someone for all that plowing, we won't need to turn it on."

"Can't we just save the money and let them take their chances?"

"If you want their cars stuck in the snow until spring, which would strand them here with us . . . "

"Okay. Heat the damn driveway and parking lot."

They headed back through the office and the corridor to the hallway outside their bedroom.

They went through the door. The late spring sun was pouring through the skylights in the vaulted ceiling. The king-size bed faced toward the back of the room, which was one giant floor-to-ceiling window, with the pool behind it and another wall of glass beyond that. The view was from the top of the hill out over a rural valley of hilly fields and farmhouses.

Right now they could see freshly plowed fields, and white and pink flowers and soft green on the trees.

_Ann imagines it in high summer – corn fields and fruit trees hanging heavy and cows and horses lazily feeding in their pastures. Her husband is grousing about the noise his children are making as they shout and laugh, rolling down the big hill in their back yard. They drag him into the kitchen to make their lunch, because they know only he will indulge their taste for marshmallow_ _fluff and peanut butter on white bread with the crusts removed. And grape soda, which their mother will discover later because they simply can't hide their purple tongues._

_And autumn, with tractors harvesting and people picking the fruits and vegetables, the yellows, reds and oranges blazing against the clear blue sky in the yellow, the fading sun, and the first, slightest hint of the cold to come, barely perceptible like a soft scent on the breeze. Ann sees herself standing at the bus stop, to get David and Katie (she likes the name, but the ultimate decision will be made when she sees her someday daughter's face and knows it's right)._

_She watches her daughter, a first grader, run unabashedly to jump into her arms while her brother, now a big third grader, holds back, attempting to look cool in front of his buddies on the bus. Of course, the minute they're back in the house and the front door is closed, he's hugging her tightly. And House, just taking a "random" break from work in his office, pretending to be annoyed as they bolt down the hallway to carefully embrace his legs as he reaches down and envelops them in his long arms._

_Then it's late fall and early winter, the trees bare, the plants gone and the ground is a dead brown gray, with the last of the root vegetables being pulled up and only tan stubble left in the cornfields. Most people find this time of the year depressing, but not Ann. She loves the first real bite of cold and the silvery frost of the mornings. She and her husband prepare Thanksgiving dinner as her children "help." Ann is grateful for the food and the people around her table._

_And then it's winter. Thick, white flakes swirl past the windows, only allowing peeks at the landscape below, which is not much more than a blanket of white, dotted by red barns. Ice hangs from the trees and the sky is a light gray. It's a snow day, David and Katie burst through the bedroom door climbing into bed in between them, snuggling under the blankets and falling back to sleep as they all indulge in their Sunday morning ritual on a Wednesday. The wind howls outside, reminding them all how safe and warm and loved they are._

_Then the soft wet brown of early spring, and the first, most tender green plants peeking through. The mudroom earns it name in this season - David and Katie splash in the puddles in the backyard as Ann watches through this same window as she tries to get some work done. She feels her husband's arms slide around her. "Great view, huh?"_

"Annie, are you listening? I said it's a great view, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Danielle and Chase are keeping David tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"So, we have plenty of time to 'enjoy' the new house. Wanna break in the bed?"

Ann simply smiled slyly and retreated to the bathroom. She emerged wearing nothing but a smile. In the meantime, House had had the opportunity to remove his clothes, too. They both experienced the thrill of seeing each other naked, something that had never gone away, and they hoped never would. They found themselves lying on the bed together.

Because it had been a while since they'd had the opportunity to make love in the daylight, House paused to really look at Ann.

He started with her face, but not her eyes. He knew he'd see affection there and he was never sure, after over forty-five years of making himself impassive, if his face would show any feelings at all. He usually considered that a positive thing, but with Ann, he didn't want her to think he felt nothing. She probably knew the volcano of feelings that was buried deep inside, since she had seen at least a small piece of it, but he didn't want to take any chances.

So, he ran his hand along her cheeks. His thumb traveled lightly across her lips. His fingers slid along her throat and collarbone. Ann's back arched toward his hands as he caressed her breasts and her nipples. She sighed contentedly at the touch.

House made his way down to her abdomen. Without his conscious awareness, he began lightly tracing the scar from her caesarian. He refrained from touching her stoma and her other scars. He could never actually tell her how incredibly beautiful they were to him. They made her who she was, and, because he loved her, he was grateful for all of them.

Ann felt House drawing his finger along the scar. Her first thought was to tell him it was ugly and to push his hand away. Ann knew she would be called on that. No scar of hers, no matter what emotions it evoked, could possibly compete with the mother of all scars, the one on his right thigh. It was pointless to declare one's scars ugly in the face of that.

House continued to run his finger across the mended skin. He wasn't really looking at it any more, Ann noticed. She wondered what he could possibly be thinking about. She wanted to know, but she knew she'd have to be careful how she asked.

"It doesn't look too bad, does it?" she questioned.

"Not really thinking about how it looks," House admitted.

There was a long pause. Ann knew pumping House for information at this point was worse than useless. If she tried, he'd just shut down, say it was nothing and move on.

"I was just thinking about when David was born," House mused.

"Well, that's not a bad memory," Ann noted.

"It's not a good one."

"What do you mean?"

"Your blood pressure was so high. When they did the c-section and pulled him out, all I could think was that it was like removing a tumor. I bet you didn't know I felt that way about my own son."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It was a tough situation. You were concerned."

"Concerned? I get 'concerned' when there are no handicapped parking spaces. This was terrified, shitting in my pants."

Ann was taken aback by that. She'd known her medical condition had been serious, but she'd just decided not to dwell on it, since it was over. Hell, she'd been so busy, she hadn't had the time to think about it. She was sorry she had put House through all that, but she also knew he'd consider the regret a wasted emotion. So, she tried to logically respond to what he said.

"Well, then, you had an even tougher situation," she noted. "So, it really shouldn't upset you."

"Not 'upset' me?" House asked, his voice biting Ann with its sarcasm. "How could I not feel like a piece of shit? What kind of a father considers his child a tumor?"

"Wait. Think about what you said. You said when they took him out of me, you thought it was like removing a tumor."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, you compared the _process_ to getting rid of a tumor; you didn't think of _him_ as one."

"Semantics."

"No, it's an important distinction."

"Maybe. But I still didn't pay any attention to him. Chase was watching more closely what was going on with him than I was."

"First of all, I'm guessing that my blood pressure didn't drop down to 110 over seventy in five seconds."

"It only went down to 150 over 100, and that took several minutes."

"That's still pretty high, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So, you were kind of focused on what was happening with me."

"Fine, maybe I was too distracted to hear details like apgar scores and height and weight, but I didn't feel anything, either."

"I don't understand, what did you think you were supposed to feel?"

"I'm his father. I'm supposed to love him."

"Greg, you expected to be overwhelmed with love for him the minute you saw him? I think that's not very realistic, especially for you."

"You mean because I'm defective when it comes to emotions?"

"No! I mean because you've had so many people that matter to you 'teach' you that your emotions are to be used to hurt and manipulate you. And, in spite of that, you still feel deeply. It's just that all that pain makes you cautious. You hold back until you can understand the situation. When you feel it has at least a chance of not hurting you, then you plunge in, with more intensity than anyone I've ever known. It's beautiful."

"So, I was just 'holding back'? That seems like a convenient excuse. It still sounds to me like I was crappy father."

Ann was frustrated that House was too guilt-ridden to get her point. She decided that launching into a lecture about how long it takes some parents to bond with their children was not going to help. She decided to try a different tack. "Let me ask you something."

"Okay."

"Do you love David now?"

"You know I do."

"How much?"

"I don't know how to quantify it . . . there aren't units of measurement for love."

"Spoken like a true scientist. Well, then, how about this? What would you be willing to do for him?"

"You mean like take care of him?"

"Yeah, that's part of it, but I mean something beyond just diaper-changing, helping with homework, driving him around to his activities, and paying for college. Something involving genuine self-sacrifice."

"Explain."

"If he needed a kidney and you were a match, would you give it to him?"

"After what I've done to my body, it's hard to imagine anyone would want my kidney."

"If it were in decent shape, would you give it to him?"

"Of course."

Ann was about to continue with her questions when she noticed House staring off into space again.

Ann knew it was better to wait. House finally spoke.

"I had this patient once. He was in his early twenties and he was an alcoholic and his heart was failing. He became unconscious. His father had been in a vegetative state and I woke him up temporarily to help with the diagnosis since I couldn't talk to the kid. We diagnosed him, but we couldn't save him without a transplant. The father knew he was going to return to the vegetative state once the drugs wore off, and he killed himself and gave his son his heart."

"Wow, just . . . wow."

"Yeah."

"Would you be willing to do what he did for David?"

"Absolutely. Although that's not as generous as it sounds."

"What?"

"I wouldn't want to go back to being vegetative, so I would be getting what I want, too."

"Let me ask you this, then. If David needed your heart and you're weren't avoiding some terrible fate by giving it to him, would you still do it?"

"There are rules against that sort of thing."

"Yeah, when I think of you, I think of a stickler for rules. Not. And you found some way around the rules for the father of your patient. So, I'm asking again, would you do it?"

"You'd be mad at me."

"And if you were dead, that would affect you how?"

"You'd haunt me."

"First of all, genius, I'd be alive and you'd be dead, and the dead haunt the living, not the other way around. Second, we're atheists, and we know there's no proof of anything like an afterlife. So, quit trying to distract me and answer the question!"

"Yes, I would."

"I thought so."

"Remind me, what was the point of this little exercise?"

"To show you that, even if you weren't aware of loving David when he was born, you know without a doubt that you love him now."

"I loved him from the first moment I held him. But – "

"But, nothing! You love him. End of discussion."

"But, what if he finds out about what I was thinking?"

"Well, other than your telling me just now, did you tell anyone else?"

"No. But Chase must have noticed I wasn't really paying any attention to David."

"Which he no doubt knew was because you were worried about me. And even if he figured it out somehow, why would he ever tell David?"

"Are you saying I should lie to him about this?"

"No, not at all. I just think you don't need to tell him."

"Ever?"

"Certainly not while he's a child and can't understand everything that was happening. And I'm not sure he needs to know it as an adult, either, unless he finds himself in a similar situation – I hope not - and you need to tell him he's really a good father and use yourself as an example."

"Of a good father? Seriously?"

"Of course."

"And, on what, precisely, do you base that assessment?"

"What you just said to me."

"Those are just words."

"Then how about your observable behavior since I woke up in the hospital? At least once I stopped being an idiot and let you near him. You take care of him, and hold him, and talk to him and kiss him."

"It's easy now."

"You mean because he's so adorable?"

"That, and he can't stop me."

Ann blanched. It probably wouldn't have shocked or hurt her more if someone had actually slapped her in the face. How much rejection had this man suffered over his life that he assumed that no one, not even his child that he demonstrably adored, would want to be with him? Ann wanted to reassure him, but she wasn't sure how to do it.

"David is old enough now that he could squirm when you hold him. Does he?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Does he just lie there?"

"No."

"What does he do, then?"

"He, um, he kind of , well, he, um . . . "

"Snuggles against you?"

"God, that word is _so_ not manly."

"Well, does it describe what he does?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"So, even now, he likes being with you."

"He hasn't heard me say anything to him yet."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is. I mean, he doesn't understand words yet. I'm not exactly explaining theoretical mathematics to him."

"What do you say to him?"

"I don't know; mostly lame stuff."

"Like?"

Much to Ann's surprise, a blush traveled up House's face. "I, um, well, I tell him how blue his eyes are, and how smart he is, and a bunch of, um, . . . "

"Do you tell him that you love him?"

"Yeah, I guess, um, yes."

"Nothing else you say to him matters more."

"When he's a teenager – "

"Let me rephrase that. Nothing you say to him will _ever _matter more than that. And you know that, Greg. Because when you were a child, no one ever said that to you."

It was a harsh thing to say, but Ann knew House would respect her for speaking the truth.

There was a pause.

"Listen, you seem a little uncomfortable about telling me what you say to David. You know you don't have to be, don't you?"

"I'm not so sure about that."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, you remember that time when Wilson was over, and you practically called me effeminate for expressing emotions toward David?"

"I did no such thing! I never used that word at all."

"Okay, you said I would be the less dominant one in a gay relationship. What word would you use?"

"I don't know, I mean, why is this, I, I was just teasing you."

"Yeah, that's John used to say, too."

"You can't possibly be comparing me to him."

"Well, he used to mock my pain and my feelings."

"But, I wasn't . . . " There was a slight pause as Ann absorbed what House was saying. "Oh my God, I was. I'm so, so sorry Greg."

"I'm sure you weren't trying to, I mean, I'm sure you weren't even aware you were doing it."

"Well, as long as I'm not deliberately hurting you, and I'm just oblivious, then I'm sure it's okay. Not!"

"It's not a big deal."

"Anything that I do to hurt you is a huge deal."

"Hey, it's not like it hasn't happened before with other people. And in much more craptastical ways."

"So, the fact that I didn't rip out your still-beating heart makes it okay?"

"Well – "

"It's not okay and it'll never be okay. I'm supposed to know better, for one thing. And I'm supposed to love you."

"You do love me, I mean, most of the time. Right?" House's voice was soft and small.

"Oh, baby," Ann sighed as her heart ached for him. "I love you all the time, for all my life. Whether you want me around when I'm so cruel to you – "

"Stop exaggerating."

"Fine, I will. And the other thing I'm going to stop is mocking your feelings. I promise you I won't ever do that again."

"You mean you're going to become deadly serious and never bust on me again?"

"Of course not. I'm just never going to make fun of your feelings again, especially about David. You are a wonderful father, and David is going to worship you."

"Hey, if he just avoided calling me an asshole, I'd consider it a good day."

Ann smiled.

"What?" House asked.

"I'm just picturing the first time he kisses you. You're going to turn into a six-foot-two-and-half-inch pile of goo."

"Are you teasing me again?"

"No, not at all."

"Then what would you call it?"

"Appreciating the breathtaking beauty of my husband's love for our son."

There was a pause as House thought about what Ann had just said. He wasn't sure anyone had ever described anything he did as "breathtaking." Brilliant, unbelievable, outrageous, yes, but not breathtaking. And to use that word to describe how he loved someone? Even more beyond his experience.

Honestly, so much of his life now was outside anything he had ever known before. He had enough money to live comfortably. He no longer spent his professional life expecting it was only a matter of time before he was going to be fired from his job. The physical pain he'd experienced for the last dozen plus years was still there, but it was tamed to manageable levels, and, even more importantly, he could always ask for help if it worsened. The people he considered his friends now actually respected him, and didn't spend their time trying to fix him.

And he'd found love. The genuine, abiding, passionate love that he thought he was incapable of feeling. And even more surprisingly, that love was returned in full measure. Sure, she had teased him about how he felt about their son, but she'd also apologized for it. Heck, just the fact that she didn't try to blame him when called her on it was completely different than what anyone else who ever meant anything to him had done.

"Hey," Ann pulled him out of his thoughts, "Is everything okay?"

"No," House replied.

"No?"

"It's not okay. It's good. Really good."

With that, House returned to one of his favorite pastimes, which was enjoying his wife's body. Over time, he'd had the chance to map out the traditional erogenous zones. He knew she liked soft, tender, deep kisses, with their tongues caressing. He knew just how to make her sigh with pleasure when he tenderly touched or kissed or licked her breasts.

He knew that in contrast to the gentleness she liked with her breasts, she wasn't crazy about a soft caress of her ample behind. She found that ticklish and annoying. She much preferred a vigorous kneading there, and House preferred giving that to her, too.

He knew that she found direct contact with the tip of her clit to be too intense of a touch. He had learned her favorite place to be touched was slightly to the right. It made her come in a most spectacular way, and she could handle multiples when he touched her there. And his tongue knew every nook and cranny in the divine place between her legs.

House decided he would use all this not-so-hard-won knowledge soon, but right now he wanted to focus on the places that were not usually considered erogenous. He wanted to see what would happen.

He loved the slight turn of her calves. Not straight up and down, but not too much of a curve, either. He couldn't keep either his hands or his lips away from this little piece of perfection.

He had discovered in one of his many investigations that she had small hollows in her lower back, just above her ass. Hollows? No, the better name was dimples. Of course, House would never utter the word, as it was nauseatingly cute, but that didn't keep him from gliding over them with his fingers and putting his tongue into them for a thorough licking.

The underside of her arms near her elbow was white and soft as warm butter. Even though House's beard scratched her, she sighed contentedly as he tenderly kissed this nearly forgotten yet lovely place.

And then, her temple. Was there anything as exquisite as this spot? Ann was lying on her back, which made her hair fall away from her face. House noticed something. Usually, she wore makeup here to cover the scars from where she had been cut. But, she didn't have any makeup on right now, even though House had seen her applying it this morning. She must have removed her makeup in the bathroom before she inserted her diaphragm. House pondered why she chose to do that. It wasn't just before bedtime, it was the middle of the afternoon. Had she wanted to avoid getting makeup on the sheets or pillowcases? That had never bothered her before.

The only conclusion House could draw was that she wanted him to see the scars, or, at least, she didn't care if he did. House's chest pulled at the thought. She was willing to let him see all of her. It was an expression of trust, with no reservation of any kind. It was almost too much for him to deal with.

He decided to focus on the physical, the real. Even with the scars, the spot was smooth. Seeing the throbbing pulse point always did something incredible to House. Well, so much for defusing the situation. He could feel himself responding to her as he kissed her there and she murmured her delight.

God, he loved her so much. He moved her gently on to her back and covered her body with his, resting his head in the space between her neck and shoulder.

Ann noticed his deep breaths, and knew from past experience that House was overwhelmed. She knew his emotions were very near the surface, and that if she said anything, he would just stuff everything back down. So, she put one arm around his waist and held him. She put her other hand on his neck and gently caressed him, and she kissed whatever part of his head or face she could reach.

House felt her hands and her kisses. He knew she knew that if she said anything or pushed him, he would retreat. He was grateful that she understood both the strength of his emotions and his need to avoid talking about them or displaying them. Unfortunately, this thought did nothing to help him cope with what he was experiencing. If anything, it made the love he felt for her even stronger. House's chest felt like it was about to burst, and his body took the only way it could find relief. Tears formed in his eyes and began leaking out.

House knew he could stay buried in this spot, his spot, until the tears subsided. Ann would make no demands other than to be allowed to touch him. But, he thought she deserved more. She reserved to see what he looked like. She deserved to see just how much he loved her.

He lifted his head and looked into her face, or, at least, he looked in the direction of her face since his vision was so blurry he really couldn't see more than an outline. He waited for her reaction.

Ann was holding House and feeling his tears. She continued to rub his neck and hold him, occasionally kissing the top of his head. She would ride out this storm as she had the others before it. She was just grateful he was able to express his feelings after his having felt forced to bury them for so long.

Suddenly, House lifted his head. His eyes were slits, his faced was contorted, his cheeks were dripping wet with tears, and is nose was running. And it was the most exquisite thing Ann had ever seen.

Ann put her hands on either side of his head to support it. Her thumbs caressed the sides of his face.

Her tender reaction caused even more emotion to surge inside him and his entire body seized into a hard sob. He knew his face was wet, snotty and horribly contorted, and yet Ann's face seemed, from what he could make out, blissful, like she was looking at the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. House was astonished at the intensity of the love he saw in her face.

The deep sobs continued for a while. House eventually put his head back down on Ann's chest as he settled down into more gentle tears. Eventually, that stopped as well. There was a pause as House recovered a bit.

Ann was the First to speak. "I bet you have a roaring headache right now."

"Uh-huh," House winced.

Ann eased him off of her chest and went to the bathroom. She soaked a washcloth with warm water and returned to the bedroom. She tenderly washed his swollen face, removing all the dried on remains of his outburst. She went back and forth to the bathroom three times, returning with the washcloth rinsed out and warm again. The throbbing in House's head eased a bit, and lessened greatly a few minutes after he took the analgesic Ann brought to him on one of her trips.

They lay back down again and held each other.

"So," House asked hesitantly, "What are you thinking right now?"

"That April is a little early for either my birthday or Christmas, but I don't mind getting my present now."

"What? What present?"

"You. Seeing you. Your beautiful face."

"Beautiful? That contorted, wet, snotty face?"

"It was what you felt, and you shared it with me. That's the gift."

House had no response, so he kissed her, tenderly and tentatively at first, but with increasing intensity as the kiss deepened. When they paused to take in some oxygen, she sighed. It was like music.

House's hands traveled along her body, this time greedily seeking out her erogenous zones. Her breasts seemed eager, as always, for his touch and his lips. The space between her legs was welcoming to his fingers and his mouth. Her taste was better than anything else he had ever had on his tongue. And he loved her reaction. She was his and he was pleasing her completely, and, he was sure, in a way no one else could. She climaxed at least twice.

Suddenly, he found himself on his back and a mouth around his cock. She worked him for a few minutes until House gently pushed her away.

"I don't know how many rounds I've got in me," House informed her. "And I don't want to come on your chest."

Without a word Ann moved to lie down on her back. She spread her legs and held out her arms to him. He never imagined another human being would be this open to him. It was everything he had wanted his entire life. And here it was. Here _she_ was.

House paused for only a second outside of her. As he entered, her body welcomed his as it always did. He tried not to push too hard. There would never be another first time to make love in their new home, and he wanted to enjoy this and he wanted her to enjoy it, too. He continued to push in and out of her as she moaned with pleasure and the pressure built between them.

"I love you so much, Greg," she whispered as she started to feel her climax. House barely had time to register what she said as he joined her in his release. And, for the first time in his life, he didn't care how he looked or what emotions played across his face. She wouldn't use them against him. She had promised and he knew she would keep her word.

House stayed inside her for as long as he could, and finally slipped out as his erection waned. They continued to bask in the afterglow.

"Well, I have to say the first time we did it in the new place was certainly memorable," House remarked.

"It was fantastic," Ann agreed. "An auspicious beginning."

"Indeed."

"Welcome home. I love you, Greg."

"I love you, too, Annie.'

They held each other and fell asleep, imagining all their tomorrows.

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have it. The journey that started at the end of season six is now over, just in time for the last few episodes of the entire series. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. Thank you for taking it with me.


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